In The Eyes by Ava Strong

Author:Ava Strong [Strong, Ava]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ava Strong
Published: 2024-04-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Elle Keen pulled her FBI-issued sedan to a stop, the flashing blue and red lights splintering through the afternoon mist like shards of stained glass. The scene was hauntingly quiet; even the officers milling about moved with hushed urgency, their voices mere whispers against the silence. Elle's breath formed a cloud in the chilly air as she sat for a moment, studying the tableau through the windshield. She had been here before—not this specific place, but at the precipice of unraveling another crime scene stained in the blood of an innocent.

Her hand paused on the door handle, the cold metal grounding her. Her eyes, the color of storm clouds, reflected a mind that had pieced together puzzles far more intricate than those her peers had tackled at her age.

She had to remind herself of this. Another body dropped on her watch; she was beginning to feel the mounting pressure.

The first victim's personal connections aside... She couldn't stomach any more of this. She had to stop the killer... But first she had to find him.

With a soft click, she opened the car door, stepping out onto the gravel. The crunch beneath her boots seemed too loud in the oppressive quiet.

"Agent Keen," one of the local officers nodded as she passed the yellow tape barrier, greeting her with a mixture of respect and wariness. Detective work was her forte, not exchanging pleasantries or small talk. The crime scene beckoned, and with it, the silent call for justice.

At the center of the scene lay Rachel Cooper, her body splayed on the ground, an arrow protruding grotesquely from her chest—a grim mimicry of Cupid's tool. Elle crouched beside the victim, her analytical gaze taking in the weapon. It was an incongruous sight—archaic and brutally precise. An arrow through the heart...

Was this echoing another historical murder?

The choice of weapon seemed to say so. She couldn't see the arrowhead, but the shaft appeared ancient. Certainly no carbon or plastic here with modern fletching. Rather, the arrow was made of old wood, and the fletching were actual feathers.

She drew her phone from her pocket and raised the lens, taking photos of the scene. As she studied the victim, her stomach tight, her lips pressed in a thin line, she realized something else. Rachel didn't look like the other victims.

“There goes that theory,” she muttered under her breath.

Her fingers expertly navigating the contacts until she found the number she needed. Professor Shaw, an authority on historical assassinations, would have the insight she sought. The ringtone cut through the quiet, ending abruptly as the line connected.

She glanced through her messages as she heard the sound of Shaw clearing his throat on the other end. Briefly, she spotted a message from Tom. Talking to the family. Mother is inconsolable. Sorry for the delay.

She grimaced, grateful her partner had been willing to face that particular storm alone.

But now, she heard her old mentor clearing his throat on the line.

"Shaw," came the gruff acknowledgment, a voice tempered by years of academia and research.

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