But she would never run. Never leave. Never stop until the man who killed her sister was caught.

“Happy birthday, Dawn.” Briella blew her sister a kiss and turned around.

She could only handle visiting her grave for so long. A few minutes, no more than that. She rarely spoke, only stared at the headstone. Some people came to feel closer to their lost loved ones. Some people liked to share good news or vent about life as if the person were still alive and could respond. Some people thought people who visited graves were odd.

Honestly, Briella wasn’t sure what category she fell into. Now and again, she felt the need to visit and then leave.

Did she feel more at peace once she left? No.

She felt nothing but intense rage and hatred for the injustice surrounding her sister’s case.

A year had passed and still no leads on who killed her sister. No evidence, no witnesses, no answer to why someone would break into her sister’s apartment—on her birthday, no less—and rape and brutally murder her.

Anytime she closed her eyes, she could still see her sister’s body sprawled on the bed, her clothes torn, her body bruised and slashed…blood everywhere.

Shaking off the memory, she increased the pep in her step. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best idea to come visit her sister’s grave on the anniversary of her death.

But…it was also her birthday. She deserved recognition for that. Especially since Briella never had the chance last year. She had arrived at her sister’s apartment too late.

Her pace increased even more.

A little too much when she tripped on a patch of recently disturbed grass. Landing hard on her hands to brace her fall, she winced when a sharp pain raced up her right hand through her wrist and to her shoulder.

Rolling awkwardly from her knees to her butt, she cradled her right arm as her eyes glided back toward her sister’s grave.

Was it considered a bad omen to trip and fall in a graveyard? Because as she stared hard at the loss of such sweet innocence, it felt like a bad omen.

The snap of a branch had her twisting her head to the left. More headstones, a few trees dotted here and there, but otherwise, nothing odd she could see.

A shiver rushed down her spine.

The same kind of terrifying shiver that had scorched her skin when she stepped inside her sister’s apartment. Even before she had seen her mangled body.

“Knock it off, Briella. It’s the day. It’s…it’s going to be a rough one.”

Inhaling a deep breath, she then exhaled slowly, taking one more sweep of the area.

Still, nothing looked amiss.

Well, she refused to wallow in self-pity. She refused to let the grief consume her. She refused to let the nightmares take control where she would never be able to resurface.

That only left one option to regain her equilibrium. To take all her erratic emotions, her pain, and center it on one thing.

Detective Stromberg.

* * *

He waited behind a large headstone, sensing her still looking around, yet he didn’t dare take a peek. That had been a close call. She had almost seen him. Thank goodness for the large headstone nearby.

Of course, there had also been a tree close-by as well, which was how he had stepped on a small branch. It probably fell from the recent thunderstorm they had a few days ago.

But the headstone had been closer. So he immediately ducked low, scrunching his knees close to his chest, and waited.

He didn’t find it odd sitting against a headstone or on top of someone’s grave. Not much gave him pause. He felt comfortable in his skin and any kind of predicament he always found himself in. He was lucky in that regard because he knew not everyone was as confident in themselves as he was.

Why shouldn’t he be confident?

He got away with murder.

Inhaling, he tried to detect Briella’s scent. A sweet lavender aroma that always tickled his senses into delicious thoughts. On occasion, he liked to roam her apartment. She didn’t wear perfume, not like some women who liked to douse themselves with a disgusting amount. No, her beautiful scent came from lotion. On one risky adventure into her domain, he had watched her lather herself from head to toe with the lilac scent. Of course, not wanting to give himself away before he let his urge take over, he left as quietly as he had appeared.

He was good at that. Coming and going without anyone noticing him. He was invisible.

Untouchable.

Although, he wasn’t a fool. He never did unnecessary things. Like right now. He couldn’t catch a whiff of her scent. His hands fisted, irritated at the fact. He couldn’t get closer without her seeing him because then the jig would be up. If he was one thing, it was careful. Very, very careful in every decision.

They had yet to find out he killed Dawn Colton.

Of course, it hadn’t been his intention that night. He had only wanted—

Best not to conjure old memories at a time when he needed to keep his senses tuned to his surroundings. He might’ve made a mistake that night, but when the bloodbath had ended, he’d done his due diligence to make sure not a trace of him was left behind.

Since they hadn’t knocked on his door to arrest him, he knew they’d never find out that he’d killed her.

When Briella didn’t call out, “Who’s there? Make yourself known,” or even a simple “Hello?” he knew she had dismissed the strange sound as nothing more than nature speaking its natural sound.

He heard soft footsteps drifting away as if she had finally decided to leave the area. Risking a glance, he peered around the headstone, watching as Briella walked with brisk steps back to her car.

He continued to wait patiently in his spot until she was in her car and it sped away out of his view.

Standing up, he wiped his pants both front and back from any grass or dirt that might’ve attracted to him and headed for his vehicle. Of course, he had parked farther away, nowhere near the cemetery. One could never be too careful.

It was how he always stayed one step ahead of the police—ahead of Detective Stromberg.

Ah, yes.

Detective Stromberg.

That would most likely be Briella’s next destination. She didn’t make it difficult to decipher her moves. She was very rigid in her routine.

Sleep, eat, work, repeat. Throw in a visit every two weeks or so to Detective Stromberg, and that was it. She rarely deviated from her routine.

With today being a very special day—Dawn’s birthday, and unfortunately the day she died—he knew Briella would pay Detective Stromberg a visit.

Which meant so would he. Away from prying eyes, of course.

He knew a shortcut. He’d make it there first.

He didn’t want to miss the scene between the two. Their meetings were always volatile.

He loved it…

But only if Detective Stromberg didn’t do something he didn’t like.

Copyright © 2024 Amanda Siegrist.

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