Sidetracked (Mindf*ck Series Book 2)

Without feelings of respect, what is there to distinguish men from beasts?

—Confucius

“He’s been quiet for two days,” Elise says, still studying the latest reports from the forensics found.

“He’s being cautious. He wants attention, but he doesn’t want me to win, and especially not before he reaches his endgame.”

“What’s his endgame?”

“Lana,” I say, gripping my pen tightly.

“We don’t know that,” Lisa argues.

I ignore her. She’s acting like a jealous girlfriend, after having not acted that way in over a year. I’m not sure what her issue is all of the sudden, but it’s petty and pointless, especially now of all times.

“We have a problem,” Donny says, taking brisk steps on his way to my desk.

“We have a board full of problems,” I remind him, gesturing to all the unsolved cases.

“Two guys from Delaney Grove are missing.”

My skin prickles, and I sit up straighter. “Is it just a coincidence? The unsub has been killing them in their homes.”

“He’s also been targeting single males who live in seclusion. Lawrence Martin lives with a roommate, and is a twenty-nine-year-old ad executive from New York. He went missing sometime in the past ten or eleven days.”

“Holy shit,” Elise says. “All of them have been found no later than four days. It has to be a coincidence, especially since he doesn’t fit all of the victimology.”

“Too coincidental,” I tell her, then focus on Donny. “Why didn’t the roommate report him missing sooner?”

“He wasn’t sure if Lawrence had hooked up with a girl, or if he was staying at the office. I also got the impression he didn’t really care, but rent is due, and he said Lawrence is always there to hand over his half. He never showed up yesterday, he’s been missing at work, and no one has seen him.”

“And the other?” Elise prompts.

“Tyler Shane,” Donny answers. “Twenty-seven-year-old tech analyst from West Virginia. Moved there from Delaney Grove straight out of high school. His girlfriend just reported him missing today.”

“So he has a girlfriend?” I ask, confused. “Our unsub has been targeting single males only.”

“He also has a wife,” Donny says, his eyebrows raising. “Apparently she got pictures and screenshots of messages between Tyler and a Denise Watkins—the girlfriend—from an anonymous tipster. She left that day and hasn’t been back. She didn’t even know he was missing, and I don’t think she cares.”

“Any chance she’s responsible for him missing?” Lisa asks, glaring daggers through me. “After all, crimes of passion are more likely than a serial kill.”

Everyone looks between us, as though they’re asking questions, but I have no clue what her problem is.

“She’s been in L.A. since she left,” Donny says, clearing his throat as he gets back on point. “Her work requires a lot of travel, and she just decided to stay gone this last time and take a couple of days to herself. Across the country is a damn good alibi.”

“Check it out,” I tell him. “Make sure she’s legit. Check into Lawrence Martin’s financials too. See if he made any large withdrawals. Same for Tyler Shane. Also check into the roommate and girlfriend. Our guy hasn’t been taking them from their homes, and has only been targeting single, solitary men.”

“And if it is our guy?” Leonard asks, joining us.

“Then we’ll need to revisit the profile and finally deliver the story to the media. A sexual sadist was a stretch to begin with. If these two are linked to our unsub, then he’s not a sexual sadist. He’s just a sadist. Look into anyone who might have tortured animals.”

I grab my notebook, scratching down some notes. “There were never any hesitation marks,” I say quietly, studying photos of the first victim. “This guy is comfortable around death and killing. No patterns of rage have been found. He’s only targeting people who have left town.”

“Which means he could have killed before,” Lisa adds.

“Hence the tortured animals bit,” I say, shifting the photos around on my desk. “He may be bitter these people left that town and have successful lives. We’ll deliver the profile to the media if we find the bodies.”

They all nod, and I pick up my phone, dialing Lana. She answers almost immediately.

“Hey, you, how’s the hunt?” she asks, sounding breathy and happy.

“Quiet right now. Hadley is running some of the forensics in an effort to see if we can get ahead of him. Why do you sound out of breath?”

“I’m on the phone. I’ll be right back,” she calls out to someone. “Sorry,” she says into the phone. “I was working out with Duke. He’s showing me some moves.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline as I stand up.

“Duke?”

“Detective John Duke. He just showed up today to start bunking with me. He said everyone just calls him Duke. He’s the guy you assigned to my house, remember?”

No. No I don’t remember. It was supposed to be Marley St. James, an older guy who is on the verge of a promotion. He’s been there since the day I had to leave. Why did they pull him?

John Duke…I’ve never heard of him.

“What happened to Marley?” I ask distractedly.

“He had something come up, I guess. I didn’t pry for details. We never really spoke. He mostly kept to himself while he was here.”

I quickly lean over my chair, remaining standing, and type the new name into the computer as Lana continues. John Duke’s picture flashes across my screen, and I almost drop my phone.

Motherfucker.

Twenty-eight. Fit. Single. Ambitious. Newly promoted to homicide detective—a coveted spot. Definitely not ugly—can’t believe I’m admitting that.

And he’s in my girlfriend’s house. Sleeping there. Staying with her while I’m here. Alone together.

I’m going to kill someone for fucking this all up.

“Logan?” Lana prompts, sounding worried. “You okay?”

“Just curious how a homicide detective has time to come babysit,” I say casually, grabbing my bag from the floor and heading toward the door. I’m due a few hours of sleep, and I know where I want to take those few hours.

“Um…he said his boss dude told him to come here. The department is taking this threat seriously. Duke is who they thought would be best to surprise Plemmons if or when he shows up.”

Throwing a tantrum is not on my agenda. The local PD want to make the arrest, and are using this as a way to get a leg up on us, since we’re outsourcing her protective detail to them. Since I’m outsourcing her protective detail to them.

I’ll deal with Duke when I get there.

“I don’t know him, Lana. They apparently sent in someone they want to take credit for any arrests.”

“Kind of figured as much,” she says quietly, but there’s a mocking lilt to her tone.

“Why’s that?” I ask, getting into my SUV.

“Because there’s no way you’d send that guy to come stay in my house while you’re gone.”

I snort derisively, then relax when she laughs.

“Don’t worry, Agent Bennett. I normally don’t play with boys who wear badges. You’re my only exception.”

Then there’s that. I’m still confused about that. No criminal record means no run-ins with police. Unless there’s a sealed juvie record, but nothing popped when Hadley ran her name through the system.

“Keep me awake while I drive,” I tell her, not commenting on any of the other.

“You want me to tell you about how I broke my vibrator this morning?”

I swerve the car, cursing as a horn blares.

“Logan? You okay?” she asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” I grumble. “Fine. How’d you break your vibrator?”

This girl… I swear she gets off on surprising me. Every time I think I have her figured out, she throws me another curve ball.

She laughs lightly. “Well, I pulled it out of my drawer, peeled my panties off on my bed, and when I slid it down my body, building up the anticipation as it buzzed…it slipped out of my hand, hit a crease in the bed, and crashed against the floor. The fun part broke off.”

Laughter escapes me before I can stop it, and I feel her smile.

“What if I told you your vibrator could retire for the night?”

“I’d say duh. Because it’s worthless now.”

“I meant, I’m coming there,” I say, still partially laughing under my breath.

“Really? You can get away?” The excitement in her tone has me driving a little faster.

“On my way right now,” I tell her, smiling when I hear her sigh like she’s content.

“Well, good, then you can—”

My phone beeps with an incoming call, and I groan, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“You need to let me go, don’t you?” she muses.

“Yes. Unfortunately. I’ll see you in about twenty though.”

“Be safe.”

I hang up and answer my call without looking to see who it is.

“Bennett.”

“I found a few things that could give us a lead. Where are you?” Hadley asks.

“Just left a few minutes ago. Take what you found to Donny. I’m going to crash for a couple of hours and get some sleep in an actual bed.”

“Your bed?” she asks, an edge to her tone.

“No. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Logan, we need to talk about something,” she says hesitantly.

“Which is?”

After several long seconds, she finally exhales a loud, frustrated breath. “Nothing. At least nothing for now. I’ll let you know if I find something.”

Weird.

“Right. So get with Donny on what you’ve found, and—”

“You seriously don’t want to look over this yourself?” she interrupts.

“Is it going to break the case? Will it lead us to him?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then give it to Donny. I need sleep, Hadley. I’ll be back in as soon as my eyes aren’t trying to close on their own.”

A loud yawn sneaks out, as if cued, and she sighs harshly.

“Okay. See you later.”

Hanging up, I run the case over in my head and resist the urge to call Lana back just because I hate the idea of her being there alone with a single guy. A single guy who might be touching her because of their ‘workout.’ A single guy who is apparently trying to connect with her.

My grip tightens against the steering wheel.

I have to get ahold of this jealousy thing.