The aroma of something sweet wafted upstairs and woke up Greg’s senses. When he opened his eyes and he was alone, his heart pattered with warning.
Mattie.
He listened for running water in the bathroom. Quickly, he jumped into his jeans and pulled a shirt over his head, then checked the spare room. Her bag was gone. He walked downstairs, hoping to see the carry-on by the door, but the closer he got to the sound of small children laughing from his kitchen, the chillier he became.
Kayla stood next to the stove making breakfast. Austen sat in a chair reading the New Times Colonist. Sloane hung onto the edge of the coffee table on wobbly legs and laughed at her brother who was bouncing on the couch.
“Good morning.” Kayla smiled at him. “Breakfast is almost ready. Is Mattie right behind you?”
He shook his head. “She’s gone.”
The newspaper hit the dining table and Austen’s expression curled with concern.
Greg ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “I’m heading to her place.”
“Let me.” Kayla rubbed her hands on a dish towel. “Where does she live?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Austen ordered.
Without much of a pause, she said, “It’s my fault. I need to talk with her.”
Austen rose from the table. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, take care of the kids. I’ll bring her back.”
“Austen’s right. Stay. I’ll find her,” Greg said.
She rushed by him. “Have breakfast. I won’t be long.”
“Kayla,” her husband barked. “You’re not going out there.”
“Don’t be silly, Thane. You act as if lawlessness has struck and the streets are filled with criminals. It’s a beautiful morning, and the only people on the streets will be joggers and tourists looking for breakfast.” She already had her shoes on. “Where does she live?”
Greg didn’t like the idea of Kayla alone either.
She gave them a hard look. “You both have to stop being so damn untrusting. What’s the address?”
He gave it begrudgingly and thought about following her as the door closed and Austen let out a deep sigh.
Sloane stuck her arms in the air and wiggled her fingers at her father when he returned to the kitchen. He scooped her up and gave her a hug.
“Your wife is a pain in the ass,” he said.
“Yup,” Austen agreed, bringing two plates with pancakes and eggs to the table. His little cute cling-on was glued to her daddy’s chest until he returned and plopped Sloane in Greg’s arms.
“Does that taste good?” he asked Sloane, who looked up at him with her thumb in her mouth.
She smiled. Adam had the Admiral’s features with blond hair and blue eyes. Sloane, although only a year and a half old, was a mirror image of her mother, with dark brown locks and beautiful brown eyes. Her skin had the slightest tint of olive. She would be a beauty when she grew up. Kayla was fiercely protective of her children. They would never know the hell their mother had lived through.
“So, is it my imagination, or did you strike out twice yesterday?” Austen asked, pulling Adam onto his lap and feeding him some pancake.
Greg chuckled. “She informed me, in no uncertain terms, she didn’t intend to be my f—buddy.”
Austen grinned at him. “Going to let that stop you?”
He broke off a piece of pancake and pulled Sloane’s thumb from her mouth. “This tastes better,” he said. She popped open her sweet little baby lips and he tucked the pancake inside. “I didn’t. At first I thought Mattie was scared of me.” He cleared his throat. “Think I’m a little scared of her now.”
The Admiral grinned and picked up his phone to presumably text Kayla.
No text returned and he let out a frustrated breath. He put the cell to his ear. “Sweetheart, call me be back now, or else.” He hung up and put down the phone. “Was Mattie upset last night?”
“No, she was tired. She was already asleep when I got to bed.”
Austen stared at his phone and nibbled his cheek. “You’re babysitting if she doesn’t call in the next thirty seconds.”
Thirty seconds went by, three more phone calls, and then five more minutes. That’s when Kayla’s overprotective husband lost his cool. “Adam, I’m going to get your mother. Are you going to keep Uncle Greg busy?”
Adam nodded his head up and down. Sloane had fallen asleep on Greg’s chest with a thumb in her mouth.
“Don’t be too hard on her,” he said, watching Austen rise to his feet.
“She’s a royal Canadian pain in my ass,” he grumbled, heading for the door.
“Congratulations by the way! If you don’t mind me asking, what did you say about her pregnancy?”
The warrior most men saw as a legend, stopped and gripped the corner of the wall. “I didn’t. I held my wife as she cried, and I cried with her. We’re going to abort the baby if it means Kayla could die. It’s a sacrifice neither of us wants, but I won’t allow my wife to sacrifice her life for another child.”
* * * *
Kayla strolled along the sidewalk and breathed in the sea air. Crisper. Cleaner. Canadian air rejuvenated her soul. The sky was absolutely crystal blue. The manicured lawns and dormant flowerbeds waiting for spring, edged the walkway. She wanted to keep on walking, but she veered off the sidewalk at the address Greg gave her, toward a new stylish condo complex with rough timber beams and a river rock stone face.
“Okay, Bidault,” she muttered, searching until she found the number on the register at the front door and pushed the button.
Within a couple seconds, Mattie answered.
“Mattie, it’s Kayla. Will you let me up, please? You probably don’t want to, but do it anyway.”
The door buzzed and she yarded it open, then took the elevator up three stories. The place had a new smell to it, but it had to be a few years old already. At the end of the hall she reached unit three one six. The door was cracked open with a small wooden wedge.
“Mattie?” She walked into a nicely appointed apartment with neutral colors. Mattie sat at the kitchen table, praying to a cup of coffee. “Mind if I join you?”
“Mugs are over the sink.”
Kayla added a little milk from the carton on the counter, and then the coffee, and brought it to the table. “Sooo, apparently, yesterday I won the best mean girl award and I’d like to start again.”
“Why?”
She couldn’t blame Mattie for being hostile. “Because we need to work on this case and find out what’s really going on. But before that, breakfast is ready, and I need you to come back with me. Greg will not be able to rest easy unless you’re within his sight.”
Mattie sat back in her chair, cupping her coffee. “I need to solve the case or I have a feeling I’m dead.”
Kayla swallowed her first gulp swiftly. “Why is that?”
“Fridge,” she said.
Kayla stared over at the fridge tucked in the corner of the modern kitchen with stainless appliances. “In it or on it.”
“In it.”
Kayla’s innards quivered. No. No. No. You have control. She rose and stood in front of the fridge for a few seconds, gathering up her nerves. Maybe someone had left a cake inside with a warning. Not likely.
She picked up an oven mitt and gripped the handle and inhaled a silent breath, then opened the door.
Nope, not a cake.
She slammed the door, dropped the oven mitt, and went to sit with Mattie again. “I’m guessing your roommate isn’t into organics, as far as eating raw body parts?”
Mattie shook her head and took another sip of coffee.
Kayla had to hand it to her. The last time she’d seen a steaming heart with a knife stuck in it, she lost her shit. She really wasn’t sure what organ sat chilling on the top shelf of the fridge, but she’d let forensics figure it out.
“My roommate’s fiancé is an RCMP officer. He’s on his way over. No fanfare, just him and a forensic specialist.”
“I’ll wait with you.”
Mattie nodded. “After that, I’m going into the office. But first, I want to know about your theories.”
“The note so poignantly stuck in the organ. Does it mean anything to you?”
“I pick you?” Repeating what was scribbled on the paper laying over the body part. Mattie took a slow sip of her coffee. “Maybe.”
“You told me yesterday Stuart said those same words to you. Do you believe he put that in your fridge?”
She shook her head and sucked on her upper lip. “Why do you hate me?” she asked, changing the course of their conversation.
A little off topic, Kayla thought. But then again, women could do that without straying for too long. “I don’t. I just—”
“Still love Greg,” she finished for her.
Kayla cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders to stretch out the strain. “It’s complicated.”
“Heard that answer before, but it doesn’t answer my question.”
“Well this will. If we get back on topic and we help the police find the Ripper, the sooner you and Greg can get on with your lives.” She nodded. “That’s what I want. I got on with mine. Thane, my children, they’re my future. Greg—he’s…”
Mattie watched her. Waited.
“He’s an amazing man. Who looks at you…like he wants you to be his future.”
* * * *
Mattie ran her fingers through her hair, but felt like pulling it out by the roots. “Tell me this then. Has he ever had a meaningful relationship besides making a woman scream during sex?”
Kayla’s brows rose and she offered a complacent smile. “Yes, once.”
“Once besides you, or only you?”
Kayla breathed out a deep gust of air. She lifted her hands and then snagged her coffee. “One other woman, but she left Greg when my husband tried to kill me.”
The coffee sloshed out of Mattie’s cup when it hit the table. “What?”
The Admiral hadn’t mentioned that part. He’d said she was abused by her ex-husband. Attempted murder was a whole other bowl of bananas.
“I told you, it’s a long story and I’m sure Greg will explain it one day, but for now can you please just accept that he and I have been through some really shitty times. Part of it was the reason we remained so close. Separating our true feelings from each other was like ripping off a Band-Aid. We did it. I did it first when I met Thane. Greg did it when he had to accept that Thane and I are forever. At least, thought I had done it first, until I saw the way Greg looked at you. For many reasons, which I’m not going to explain now, I got scared.”
Kayla flipped her hand in the air as if to wave off the idea. “It’s just a shadow of the past. Old fears. Greg and I talked last night after you went to bed. In the short time you two have known each other, I can see you mean something to him.” She paused. “As for the sex.” She chuckled. “When Thane and I were first together it was…explosive.” She tilted her head. “I’m thinking that your private moments with Greg will be the same. So let’s get going on this investigation.”
“I’m…just thinking about the case, not Greg.”
Kayla’s long dark lashes flipped up. “Okay, if you say so.”
Mattie felt a weight come off her shoulders, and turned her laptop around so Kayla could see. “When I investigate a story, I make a grid of theories. Plausible and implausible theories are added.”
Kayla’s eyes quickly scanned over the data. She nodded. “Okay, here.” She pointed at the graph Mattie created for other serial killers, inclusive of their killing traits. Their preferred gender. Ages. Hair colors. Statistics on if the victims were kept for a while or murdered immediately. A list of how many victims were confirmed by each killer and how they were chosen.
“This is interesting.” Kayla pulled the laptop closer.
“There are several serial killers that have become legends because of their vicious and seemingly gruesome needs.”
“Many of them,” Kayla glanced up at her, “preyed on the misinterpreted disposable women of our society. The ones the police departments overlook or turn a blind eye because of the lives they’ve lived on the streets, mostly prostitutes.”
Mattie nodded. “The Victoria Ripper hasn’t killed one prostitute. Not that we know of. Each of the eight victims were women with professions. Good professions. Teachers. Nurses. Three entrepreneurs with successful businesses. A real estate agent.”
Kayla nodded, continuing to read her data.
“I don’t know how Greg’s knife could have gotten into the Ripper’s hands. He says he doesn’t know any cops, and his knife was in something called a Go Bag.”
“Men in the Special Forces, all military actually, have a kit bag. Pick it up and go. It has their essentials inside.”
“I see. Stuart, the Victoria PD officer I went out with the other night, is part of this somehow. That’s why I wanted to see him again, but Greg stopped me when I tried to set up a date.” Kayla’s phone rang for the third time. “Shouldn’t you answer that?”
Kayla shook her head. “Continue.”
“Stuart said he had picked me. When I had gone onto the dating site and found Greg’s ad, I put the two together. That’s how they may have found the women. They pick them.”
“You keep saying, ‘they’. You’re convinced there’s more than one because of the two voids by Diana’s body and the conversation with the old man.”
“I’m not sure of anything.”
“Are you on the dating site?” Kayla asked.
She shook her head. “No. But Greg suggested the murderer, or murderers, might read my column. But something is missing from all of this, and I just can’t link it together.”
“The pieces will come together. We just haven’t figured out how.” Kayla stood and began to stroll through the apartment.
“I already looked for other body parts he left behind. There’s nothing extra or anything missing.”
Kayla walked to the patio doors leading to the small balcony and drew the sheers aside. She suddenly stumbled backwards three feet, nearly missing the oak coffee table.
Mattie jumped to her feet. She hadn’t checked outside or moved the sheers.
Kayla bent over and braced her hands on her knees.
“Are you okay?”
She hurried over and put her hand on Kayla’s back. Her eyes were slammed shut, and she was concentrating on her breathing.
Someone knocked on the door.
“That must be Brandon. I have to let him in. Hang on one second. I’ll be right back” she said.
Mattie turned the knob of the front door at the same time it occurred to her that Brandon had a key. He didn’t have to knock.