F I N D

Y O U

(An Addison Shine Mystery—Book 6)

K a t e   B o l d

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting);  the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the KELSEY HAWK SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising nine books (and counting); the NORA PRICE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting); OF the BARREN PINES PSYCHOLIGICAL SUSPENSE series, comprising seven books (and counting); and of the ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting).

THE KILLING GAME (an Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book #1), LET ME GO (an Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book #1), and NOT ME (a Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book #1) are available as free downloads on Amazon!

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2025 by Kate Bold. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

PROLOGUE

Dr. Vanessa Keller's manicured fingers wrapped around the neck of a chilled bottle of Veuve Clicquot as she poured herself a generous glass. The bubbles fizzed and danced, mirroring the elation coursing through her veins. She padded across the plush white carpet of her penthouse, the Seattle skyline sprawled before her through floor-to-ceiling windows.

She raised the glass to her lips in quiet celebration of the completion of another flawless procedure. The crisp champagne hit her tongue as her eyes swept over the city below. The Space Needle pierced the sky, its iconic silhouette a familiar comfort. To the west, Elliott Bay glittered in the fading sunlight, sailboats dotting its surface like confetti.

Vanessa allowed herself a small smile. Soon, she'd be out there, too, her own vessel cutting through the waves. The check from today's surgery would make that dream a reality. She's had her eye on a certain boat for about a year now and though it was, she knew, ridiculously expensive, this last plastic surgery job she'd wrapped up would help her acquire it.

She sank into a low-slung leather armchair, relishing the cool touch of the material against her skin. The adrenaline that had fueled her through the day's procedure was rapidly dissipating, leaving her limbs feeling like lead. She wondered, idly, if she was beginning to get too old for the stress of her job.

But she knew that wasn't true. At forty-seven, she was at the pinnacle of her career, the go-to surgeon for Hollywood's elite. Even now, as she was trying to relax at home, her phone buzzed on the glass coffee table, and she glanced at the screen. Another inquiry from a B-list actress, desperate to turn back the clock.

Vanessa's mind wandered back to the operating room, the weight of the scalpel in her hand, the tension in her shoulders as she made that first incision. The responsibility was crushing sometimes, knowing that one slip could end a career, ruin a life.

Those doubts often crept in, as they always did post-surgery. What if the swelling didn't go down as expected? What if the client wasn't satisfied? What if-

The ornate mirror that dominated one wall caught her eye, its gilded frame a testament to her success. Vanessa approached it, her reflection coming into sharp focus. She studied herself critically, as she had countless times before.

Her face was a masterpiece of subtle enhancements—so expertly crafted that even experts would have a hard time noticing. High cheekbones, expertly contoured. A delicate nose, the bridge slightly narrowed from its original form. Full lips, plumped just enough to be alluring without crossing into caricature. And her eyes - those were all her own, a striking green that no surgery could replicate.

"Not bad for forty-seven," she murmured, running a hand along her slim neck. Her gaze traveled down to her trim figure, the result of both rigorous exercise and strategic liposuction. She smoothed her hands over the silk of her robe, appreciating the curves beneath.

As she preened, a faint odor tickled her nostrils. Something acrid, almost metallic. Vanessa frowned, sniffing the air. 

"What the hell is that?"

Simultaneously, she became aware of a warmth spreading through her body. At first, it was pleasant, like sinking into a hot bath. But within seconds, the heat intensified, becoming uncomfortably strong.

"Jesus," she muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. Was she coming down with something? The heat continued to build, and Vanessa's brain started to feel like mush as she tried to string a few thoughts together. What had she eaten today? Her usual salad for lunch, a protein bar before surgery, and then...

Her eyes fell on the half-empty glass of wine on her nightstand. She picked it up, sniffing it suspiciously. The wine smelled normal, but doubt crept in. Had someone tampered with it? It was the same kind she always had, and she'd purchased it from the same shop she'd been frequenting for over a decade. Surely it wasn't the wine.

But it was something…something that had her feeling sick and panicked. And Christ...the heat radiating through her was alarming, worse than any fever she’d ever experienced.

Her heart raced, pounding against her ribs like a caged animal. The heat was no longer just uncomfortable—it was excruciating. Every cell in her body felt like it was on fire, burning from the inside out.

"Oh God," she gasped, her fingers clawing at her silk robe. "This isn't right. This isn't—"

Her hand spasmed, and the wine glass slipped from her grasp. It bounced on the plush cream carpet, spilling the wine.

Vanessa barely noticed. She was too focused on the inferno raging beneath her skin. It felt as if her blood had been replaced with molten lava, searing through her veins and arteries.

"Help!" she tried to scream, but it came out as a strangled whisper. "Somebody, please!"

Her thoughts whirled in a frenzied panic. Was this some kind of allergic reaction? A heart attack? Or something far more sinister?

She stumbled toward her phone on the nightstand, but her legs gave out. Vanessa crashed to her knees, the impact sending shockwaves of agony through her body.

"No, no, no," she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. "This can't be happening. I can't—I won't—"

A scream tore from her throat, primal and raw. As she did, it felt as if a volcano was erupting from her lungs, her throat, her mouth. The ornate mirror before her exploded, shards of glass raining down like deadly confetti. 

As Vanessa crumpled to the floor, her blurring vision caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the larger fragments. What she saw made her heart stop.

Her face—her perfect, sculpted face—was engulfed in flames. The fire danced across her skin, consuming everything she had worked so hard to create. The pain was overwhelming, the only thing anchoring her to the world.

That very same world tilted sideways as Vanessa collapsed fully, her body convulsing with the otherworldly heat. Her last coherent thought before darkness claimed her was that all of the work, attention and detail that had gone into her face would now go to waste.

That was the final thought in her head before she died, getting one last distorted look at a brief wall of flames in the shattered glass.

CHAPTER ONE

Addison did her best to calm the raging nerves that were currently tying knots in her stomach as she perched on the edge of the uncomfortable chair outside SAIC Loomis' office. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead seemed to buzz in sync with her frayed nerves, casting unflattering shadows across the sterile hallway. She wiped her clammy palms on her slacks for what felt like the hundredth time, willing her heartbeat to slow its frantic pace.

The note that had been left on her car windshield flashed in her mind, its simple message both taunting and vague. He knows where Jane is now. You have to stop him

Those few lines of text had upended her world, hinting that Saul Osborne not only knew where Jane was, but might intend to harm her. After all these years of searching, to have this potential lead dangled in front of her was both thrilling and terrifying. Of course, she had no hard proof that Osborne was a threat to Jane…or that Jane was even still alive.

What she did know about Saul Osborne, though, was that he seemed to be obsessed with Fearmonger…a killer who had been tormenting Seattle for seven months now…a man who had killed at least eight people so far. And because it was a case that Addison had been secretly assigned to, the connection was just eerie, and too personal for Addison to ignore.

Addison' replaying the events that had led her here, streaming them all through her mind. Breaking into Osborne's apartment had been a monumentally stupid decision, the kind of impulsive move she'd always prided herself on avoiding. But the thought of finally uncovering the truth about Jane's disappearance had overpowered her usually logical mind.

Now, as she waited for Loomis to finish her conference call, Addison found herself wishing she could rewind time. The muffled voices from behind the closed door seemed to stretch on endlessly. She caught snippets here and there - "liability concerns", "disciplinary action", "obsessive behavior" - each phrase ratcheting up her anxiety another notch.

"Get it together," she muttered under her breath, forcing herself to take slow, measured breaths. 

But even as she tried to steel herself, doubt crept in. What if this was it? What if her reckless actions had just torpedoed the career she'd worked so hard to build? The thought of being kicked off the Fearmonger case made her stomach churn. She'd poured countless hours into analyzing every scrap of evidence, searching for the break that would finally bring down the killer terrorizing Seattle.

A cynical laugh bubbled up in her throat. Here she was, agonizing over a serial killer case when her own sister's disappearance remained unsolved. Talk about misplaced priorities. But then, that had always been Addison's coping mechanism, hadn't it? Throw herself into work, into the cold, hard facts of other people's tragedies rather than confront the gaping wound in her own past.

The conference call droned on, and Addison found herself fidgeting with the corner of her jacket. She knew she should be grateful that Loomis and the directors weren't tearing her apart right this second. She had a suspicion that the only reason she wasn't facing immediate suspension was Osborne's apparent fixation on the Fearmonger case. It was a thin thread to cling to, but right now, it was all she had.

The sudden silence from Loomis' office snapped Addison back to the present. This was it. Whatever came next would determine the course of her future, both professionally and in her search for Jane. She straightened her spine, squaring her shoulders as she prepared to face whatever consequences awaited her behind that door.

After a few moments, the door to Loomis' office swung open with a soft creak, jolting Addison from her anxious reverie. SAIC Diana Loomis stood in the doorway, her stern features softened by a hint of... was that concern?

"Agent Shine, come in," Loomis said, her voice carrying its usual authoritative tone.

Addison's legs felt like lead as she rose and entered the office. The familiar scent of leather and coffee hit her nostrils, but it did little to calm her nerves. As she sank into the chair across from Loomis' desk, a sudden, irrational wish for Javier's presence washed over her.

God, what she wouldn't give for his steady presence right now, his reassuring smile. Their relationship had been blossoming slowly, stolen moments of tenderness between cases. Kisses that left her breathless, but nothing more. Not yet. It was a fragile, beautiful thing, so different from the chaos that seemed to constantly swirl around her.

But now, with Loomis' piercing gaze fixed on her, that budding romance felt impossibly small and far away. This was about Jane, about Osborne, about lines crossed that couldn't be uncrossed. About the future of her career.

Loomis cleared her throat. "I won't beat around the bush, Addison. Breaking into Osborne's apartment was a monumental lapse in judgment, as we’ve already discussed."

Addison swallowed hard. "I know. I-"

Loomis held up a hand, silencing her. "Let me finish. After much discussion with the directors, we've decided that you won't face suspension for this incident. You did, after all, come clean about your actions when you brought the letter from your car to us. It may have been a bit late to confess to it, but we did appreciate the transparency."

Relief flooded through Addison, but it was short-lived as Loomis continued, her voice grave.

"However, there is a trade-off. You're being removed from the Fearmonger case, effective immediately."

The words hit Addison like a physical blow. "But-"

"It's non-negotiable," Loomis said, her tone softening slightly. "The directors are concerned that the stress of such a high-profile case may have influenced your decision-making…that it could have blinded you somewhat, and played a role in your rash decision to break into Sam Osborne’s apartment. We can't afford any more... irregularities."

Addison wanted to argue her point but knew it would do no good. The Fearmonger case had been consuming her thoughts for months. To be pulled off now felt like having a limb amputated. But as the initial shock subsided, a small voice in the back of her head whispered that maybe, just maybe, this was for the best. She'd been so focused on the killer terrorizing Seattle that any other cases she’d taken on had seemed almost secondary.

"I understand," Addison said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. She straightened in her chair, meeting Loomis' gaze. "Thank you for not suspending me. I know I crossed a line, but I promise it won't happen again."

Loomis nodded, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "See that it doesn't, Agent Shine. You're too damn good at what you do to throw it all away on a hunch."

Addison swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. The weight of her sister's absence pressed down on her, heavier than ever. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair.

"And what about Jane?" The words tumbled out, raw and desperate. "What if this note is true? What if she's alive and in danger?"

Loomis' stern expression softened ever so slightly. She let out a small sigh, her fingers drumming on the polished surface of her desk. "Addison, I understand your concern. I do. But we can't have you compromising yourself or this agency over what might be nothing more than a cruel prank."

"But-"

Loomis held up a hand, silencing her. "I'm not dismissing this entirely. I'll personally assign someone to look into the authenticity of the letter and investigate any potential leads regarding Jane's whereabouts. But for now, it's unwise to allow you to pursue this matter yourself. You're too close to it. Surely you must see that.”

Addison felt her chest tighten. She wanted to argue, to insist that no one else could possibly understand the urgency, the importance of this lead. But the rational part of her brain – the part that had made her such an effective agent – knew Loomis was right.

"I understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. But inside of her, both rage and sadness were at war.

As the words left her mouth, Addison found herself replaying the events of the past few days in her mind. The mysterious note, the break-in at Osborne's apartment, the wild theories she'd concocted. Now, speaking about it out loud in the cold light of day, it all seemed... less certain.

"Who would have even sent that note?" she mused, more to herself than to Loomis. "It doesn't make sense. Why now, after all these years?"

Loomis leaned back in her chair, studying Addison with a mixture of concern and sympathy. "That's exactly the kind of question we need to answer before taking any further action. Obsession can cloud judgment, Addison. Even for the best of us."

Addison nodded, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief wash over her. Maybe a step back was exactly what she needed to see the bigger picture.

Loomis's stern expression softened slightly as she rested her elbows on the desk. "Addison, I've been where you are. Family... it complicates everything. I don't blame you for wanting answers about your sister. Hell, I'd probably do the same in your shoes."

A lump formed in Addison's throat. She blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. Loomis's empathy was unexpected, and it hit her like a punch to the gut.

"It's just..." Addison's voice cracked. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Whoever sent that note, they're playing with fire. With my family. With Jane."

Loomis nodded, her eyes narrowing. "And that's precisely why we need to approach this carefully. Someone's manipulating you, Addison. Using your pain as a weapon. We can't let them succeed…and we can’t have you on the case. A case, I might add, that was not only a cold case but never, in any way, connected to you."

She nodded. This was also true. There was no point in arguing it.

Loomis cleared her throat, interrupting Addison's spiraling thoughts. "Listen, there's something else. During the call with the directors, a new case came up. It's... unusual, to say the least."

Addison's eyebrows rose. "Unusual how?"

"Let's just say it's the kind of thing that could use your particular skill set. It may end up coming to you and Esposito." Loomis leaned back, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "And if it's as big as it seems, I can pretty much guarantee it'll take your mind off of everything else. So you can consider it a gift."

Had she and Javier been having the discussion, she would have joked that she’d really rather have a gift card as a gift. But seeing as how it was Loomis, she kept it professional.

"What kind of case are we talking about?"

Loomis shook her head. "I can’t provide those details at this point."

As Addison stood to leave, her mind whirled with possibilities. A new case. A distraction. Maybe it was exactly what she needed to regain her footing.

She paused at the door, hand on the knob. "Thank you. Really. I know this could have gone worse, and I get the feeling you went to bat for me."

Loomis nodded, her expression unreadable. "Just do me a favor, Shine. Don't make me regret this."

Addison stepped out of the office, her heart racing with a mixture of relief, anticipation, and lingering worry. Fearmonger had been taken from her, and she could no longer look into Jane's case with the same freedom she'd once had.

But on the other hand…Loomis had referred to an unusual case. And she was already allowing her mind to run rampant with what that could mean. 

CHAPTER TWO

The diner's fluorescent lights shone down, casting a sickly glow over the worn Formica tabletop. Addison wrapped her hands around her fourth cup of coffee, inhaling the bitter aroma. Her stomach churned, protesting the caffeine overload, but she couldn't bring herself to touch the plate of fries growing cold in front of her. The meeting with Loomis had taken more of a toll on her than she’d thought.

Javier sat across from her, concern etched in the lines around his eyes. He pushed his empty plate aside and eyed her side of the table. "You gonna eat that?" he asked, gesturing to her food.

Addison shook her head, her ponytail swishing against her neck. "No appetite," she muttered, taking another swig of coffee. The liquid scalded her tongue, but she barely noticed. Her mind was racing, replaying her meeting with Loomis over and over. She barely even noticed it when Javier reached over and took her plate of fries.

"I can't believe they took the Fearmonger case," she said, her voice low and tight. "I mean, I guess I can understand it…I just don’t want to. And Jane's case too. It feels like..." she trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Like what?" Javier prompted gently.

Addison's fingers tightened around the mug. "Like I'm exposed. Vulnerable. Some other agent is going to be digging into Jane's disappearance, poking around in my family's history. And the Fearmonger? That was our case, Javier…”

“Ours?” he asked with a joking smile on his face.

“Well, it sounds too selfish to say it was mine.”

She thought about the evidence they'd collected, as scant as it was. She thought of the leads they'd been following. All of it, handed off to another team. The frustration bubbled up inside her, threatening to spill over.

Javier reached across the table, his calloused hand covering hers. The warmth of his touch grounded her, pulling her back from the edge of her spiraling thoughts. 

"I get it, I do," he said, his dark eyes meeting hers. "But maybe... maybe this is for the best."

Addison stiffened, ready to argue, but Javier continued before she could interject.

"You're an amazing agent with instincts that I can't even imagine having," he said, his voice soft but firm. "But there was just too much being piled up on you. Fearmonger and Jane... that was enough. But then your actual job..." He squeezed her hand. "You're not Superwoman."

Addison felt a flicker of irritation at his words, despite knowing he was right. She hated feeling like she couldn't handle everything like she was somehow failing by having cases taken away from her. But beneath the annoyance, there was a spark of relief. A tiny part of her, one she didn't want to acknowledge, was grateful for the reprieve.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax her grip on the coffee mug. Smiling, she wrinkled her nose, her lips curling into a grimace. "Yuck, Superwoman," she said, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from her vulnerabilities. She leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. "Talk about overrated. You know who I can't stand? Superheroes like her and Superman. They're just so... boring."

Javier raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. She was pretty sure he knew she was deflecting but was choosing to buy into it. "Oh? Do tell."

Addison's eyes lit up with a familiar spark, the kind that always appeared when she was about to launch into one of her passionate rants. "They're overpowered, for starters. Where's the challenge when you can do literally anything? Fly, see through walls, bench-press a planet?" She waved her hand dismissively. "It's ridiculous. Give me a hero with actual flaws any day. Deadpool. Batman."

As she spoke, Addison felt a weight lifting from her chest. This was familiar territory, safe ground where she could let her geek flag fly without worrying about the implications of lost cases or her own limitations.

"So it's not just movies and TV shows?" he asked with genuine curiosity in his voice. "It's comic books, too?"

Addison nodded emphatically. "Oh yeah, the whole shebang. Might as well know the full extent of my geekery now if we're planning on taking this relationship anywhere." She winked, but internally, a small part of her tensed. Was she coming on too strong? Would this be the thing that finally scared him off?

"I'm impressed," Javier said with a grin. "I had no idea you were such a connoisseur of caped crusaders."

Despite the lightness in her tone, Addison felt a pang of dismay settling in her gut. It was one thing for Loomis to take her off the cases, but hearing Javier agree with the decision... that stung more than she wanted to admit. She pushed the feeling down, forcing herself to focus on the conversation at hand.

"Well, now you know," she said, reaching for her coffee mug. "I'm basically a walking encyclopedia of useless superhero trivia. It's a curse, really."

As she took a sip of the now-lukewarm coffee, Addison found herself wondering if her encyclopedic knowledge of fictional crime-fighters was a poor substitute for her ability to solve real-world cases. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth that had nothing to do with the diner's subpar brew.

Javier sat forward, eyeing her with concern. "So what do you need from me right now? How can I help?"

Addison's lips quirked into a mischievous smile, her eyes glinting with sudden playfulness. "Well, a few hours alone with you might do the trick. Clothing optional, of course."

She watched as Javier's eyebrows shot up, a surprised chuckle escaping him. "While that does sound great," he said, his voice low and warm, "I meant in terms of your work, Addison. Like right now."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, both from the boldness of her own suggestion and the way Javier's gaze seemed to linger on her. It was still new, less than two weeks in now, and every little glance seemed to be charged with sexual chemistry they’d not yet fully explored. She toyed with her coffee mug, buying time as she formulated a response that wouldn't reveal how adrift she truly felt.

"You know," Addison began, her voice carefully casual, "maybe the Fearmonger case and Jane's case being taken from me are blessings in disguise." The words felt hollow even as she spoke them, a blatant lie she couldn't quite sell. "I mean, now I can just throw myself into work, right? Distract my mind from..." She trailed off, her thoughts drifting to the letter on her windshield, the unproven claims about Jane that haunted her.

"Hey," he said softly, "it's okay to be upset about this. You don't have to pretend it's all fine."

Addison swallowed hard, fighting against the lump forming in her throat. She wanted to believe that immersing herself in work would be enough, that it could fill the void left by the cases that had been ripped away from her. But deep down, she knew it was just another form of running.

"I just..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper, "I need to feel useful, Javier. I need to prove that I'm not..." Broken. Unreliable. A liability. The words hung unspoken between them.

Javier squeezed her hand gently. "You have nothing to prove, Addison. You're one of the best agents I've ever worked with. This setback doesn't change that."

As much as she wanted to believe him, doubt gnawed at her insides. The memory of Loomis's stern face, the weight of responsibility lifted from her shoulders – it all felt like failure, no matter how she tried to spin it.

She forced a weak smile, grateful for Javier's unwavering support. She took another sip of coffee, savoring the bitter warmth as it slid down her throat.

"Speaking of work," Javier said, his tone shifting slightly, "did Loomis happen to mention an odd case to you during your meeting this morning? She hinted at something when I spoke to her earlier."

Addison's eyebrows raised, her interest piqued. "Yeah, actually. She did mention a strange case that might be headed our way. Didn't give me any details, though. Just said it was... unusual." For a moment, her curiosity momentarily overshadowed her inner turmoil. "Why? Did she tell you anything more?"

Before Javier could respond, his phone buzzed loudly on the table. He glanced at the screen, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Speak of the devil," he muttered, then answered the call. "Esposito here."

Addison watched intently as Javier listened, his expression morphing from mild interest to outright confusion. 

"What?" he asked, his face drawing tight. There was a pause as he listened further, his eyes widening. "Are you sure?"

Addison did her best to piece together the one-sided conversation. Whatever this case was, it was clearly living up to Loomis's 'unusual' description. A tiny thrill of excitement sparked in her chest, a welcome distraction from the heavy weight of her recent setbacks.

As Javier continued to listen, occasionally interjecting with "Uh-huh" and "I see," Addison found herself leaning closer, straining to catch any hint of what was being discussed. Her analytical mind was already kicking into high gear, ready to sink her teeth into a new mystery…no matter how odd it might be.

Yeah, she thought, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation swirling in her gut, this case is looking to be pretty strange already, without any details.

And right now, strange might be exactly what she needed.

CHAPTER THREE

Addison stepped into the lobby of the Emerald Heights apartment complex, her eyes widening at the opulence surrounding her. Polished marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, reflecting the warm glow of crystal chandeliers overhead. The air held a faint scent of lavender, masking the underlying tension that always accompanied a murder investigation.

"Damn," Javier whistled low beside her. "I should've become a plastic surgeon instead of an FBI agent."

Addison snorted, eyeing the gold-leafed ceiling. "Right, because you have such a delicate touch with that service weapon of yours."

Among the many things Addison had learned about the murder victim they had been sent to investigate was that her name was Vanessa Keller and she was an incredibly wealthy plastic surgeon. Her clientele consisted of movie stars and musicians.

Cassandra and Javier made their way to the elevators, their footsteps muffled by plush Oriental rugs. A concierge behind a mahogany desk eyed them warily but said nothing as they flashed their badges.

Inside the elevator, Addison felt the gentle ascent toward Keller’s top-floor penthouse. She used the moment to refresh herself on the scant details Javier had been able to share, as well as the information from the digital case files Loomis has sent.

Dr. Vanessa Keller, forty-seven, celebrity plastic surgeon to the stars. She was found dead in her penthouse this morning by a neighbor who heard her screaming. Cause of death... well, that's where it got weird.

"Burned up,” she said out loud, looking to Javier. “The whole body."

“Yeah, this will be a fun one",” Javier said dryly.

The elevator chimed, doors sliding open to reveal a hushed corridor. Addison stepped out, her mind whirling with possibilities. She’s already seen the one suggestion in the files, but she had a hard time believing it. 

Spontaneous human combustion. 

No, that was ridiculous. There had to be a logical explanation.

"You okay?" Javier's voice cut through her thoughts as they neared the door to the apartment.

She realized she'd been standing still, staring at the ornate door to Dr. Keller's penthouse. "Yeah, just... processing. This is a new one, even for us."

"Tell me about it. I've seen some messed up stuff, but this? This is next level."

Addison took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Well, let's go see what the good doctor left behind for us to figure out."

As they approached the door, Addison couldn't shake the feeling that this case was going to be unlike anything they'd encountered before. And while she welcomed the challenge of it, there was also something downright creepy about it.

She pushed the thought aside. She was a scientist, a medical examiner. There was always an explanation, always a trail of evidence. No matter how bizarre the circumstances, the truth was there, waiting to be uncovered.

With a nod to Javier, Addison came to the door. As Addison pushed open the door, the acrid stench of burnt flesh assaulted her nostrils. Three uniformed officers stood huddled near the entrance, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion. A man in a rumpled suit broke away from the group, striding towards them with purpose.

"Detective Scott Brown," he introduced himself, extending a hand. "You must be the feds we called in." He looked to be in his forties, a wedding ring on his left hand and a well-maintained beard covering the lower half of his face.

Addison shook his hand, noting the slight tremor in his grip. "Special Agent Addison Shine, and this is my partner, Special Agent Esposito. What can you tell us about the situation?"

Brown's eyes darted nervously towards the interior of the apartment. "It's... unlike anything I've ever seen. We got the call about two hours ago. A neighbor reported a strange smell. We found... well, you'll see for yourself."

As they stepped further into the penthouse, Addison's keen eyes scanned the lavish surroundings. Everything screamed wealth and taste, from the avant-garde artwork to the sleek, modern furniture. Everything except the horror show waiting for them in the master bedroom.

"Burned alive, right?" Addison asked, her scientific mind already cataloging details.

Brown shook his head, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Sort of. But by all appearances, this seems to be a case of spontaneous human combustion."

Addison's eyebrows shot up. Her forensic knowledge screamed that such a thing was implausible, almost always having an external ignition source. But the sci-fi geek in her, the part that devoured weird phenomena in her spare time, perked up with fascination.

"Spontaneous combustion?" Javier echoed, skepticism dripping from every syllable. "You can't be serious. I read it in the files but figured it was just there because you have to put something on the forms."

Brown only shrugged. But Addison found herself trying to mentally dig up anything she knew about human combustion. Spontaneous human combustion was a myth, a sensationalized phenomenon with no scientific basis. Yet, a small voice in the back of her head whispered, 'What if?'

She pushed the thought aside. There had to be a rational explanation, and she was determined to find it.

Now fully inside the bedroom, the acrid stench of burnt flesh assaulted her nostrils, triggering memories of autopsies past. But this... this was something else entirely.

"Jesus," she muttered, her eyes fixed on the grisly scene before her.

What remained of Dr. Vanessa Keller lay sprawled on the floor, a macabre tableau of ash, bone, and blackened muscle. The once-plush carpet was charred in a near-perfect circle, extending about two feet in every direction from what remained of the body. Even the wall behind bore witness to the intense heat, its pristine surface now marred by soot and scorch marks. A shattered mirror was positioned almost directly centered to the remains.

Addison crouched down, her trained eye absorbing every detail. The victim's bones peeked through the ash, eerily white against the surrounding blackness. Small chunks of muscle clung stubbornly to the skeletal remains.

"What the fresh hell is going on here?" Addison voiced her thoughts aloud, her mind struggling to reconcile the scene before her with her scientific knowledge.

Javier stepped closer, his face a mask of concentration. "Look at the mirror," he said, gesturing to the shattered glass on the floor. "Some of the pieces are charred. The intense heat must have caused it to break."

Addison nodded. "Good catch. And notice how the burn pattern is contained? The fire didn't spread beyond this immediate area. It's like..."

"Like it burned hot and fast," Brown interjected, "and then just... stopped."

Addison stood, making a small huh sound. "That's not how fires typically behave. They spread, consume everything in their path. This is... different."

Detective Brown ran a hand through his thinning hair, his eyes flickering between Addison and Javier. "Both of those reasons—the contained burn and the charred glass—is why our initial suspicions are leaning towards spontaneous human combustion."

"But that's just a myth," she said. "A very weird urban legend."

Brown shrugged, his weathered face etched with a mix of frustration and bewilderment. "I know how it sounds, but hear me out. I’m just as skeptical as you are. But from what we understand, the phenomenon presents as a sudden flash of fire that doesn't burn long enough to spread. It's literally a sudden flash of intense heat."

He gestured to the charred remains. "The victim's core temperature skyrockets rapidly, causing the body's fat to act as a sort of fuel. The heat is so intense it reduces most of the body to ash, leaving only extremities relatively intact. The surrounding area is minimally affected because the fire burns inward, consuming the body from the inside out. It essentially burns itself out before it has the time to spread. It's literally like one huge flash of heat, and then it's done."

Addison listened, her scientific mind warring with the implausibility of what she was hearing. She glanced at Javier, noting the skepticism etched on his face.

Brown cleared his throat. "Either of you familiar with this phenomenon?"

Addison shook her head, her curiosity piqued despite her skepticism. "No... but I'm sure as hell going to read up on it." She crouched down, her eyes roving over the ashen remains, the scattered bones, the broken glass. It was eerie and unnatural, a scene that defied logical explanation.

For a brief moment, unbidden, the idea of Fearmonger flashed through her mind. This was, in its own way, terrifying. She pushed it away, focusing on the case at hand. This was fascinating enough to temporarily dwarf even her most haunting memories.

As she thought all of this over, a voice behind her cut through her thoughts.

"The coroner's here," one of the officers announced.

Addison straightened, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "This should be interesting," she thought, bracing herself for what promised to be a challenging examination.

She turned to face the newcomer, her mind already racing with possibilities. Whatever had happened here, whatever had reduced Dr. Vanessa Keller to this state, SAIC Loomis had been right: it was extremely strange and was going to be one hell of a way to keep her mind off of her recent controversies and worries.

As the coroner approached, Addison felt a familiar surge of adrenaline. This case was unlike anything she'd encountered before, and she was ready to dive in headfirst…no matter how odd the answers might be.

CHAPTER FOUR

Addison stepped back to allow the coroner room to have a look at the remains but, her eyes never left the odd smear of ash and bone. The acrid smell of burnt flesh clung to her nostrils, making her stomach churn. She watched as Sam Bauer, one of the coroners she'd worked with during her medical examiner days, approached the scene with measured steps.

He gave Addison a small nod of acknowledgment as he entered the room and cautiously made his way to the backend spot on the carpet.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sam muttered, crouching down beside the blackened outline on the floor. His salt-and-pepper hair caught the harsh fluorescent light as he tilted his head, examining the remnants with a furrowed brow. "In all my years, I've never seen anything quite like this. This is…"

“Weird,” Addison finished for him. “It's like something out of a sci-fi novel."

As Sam began his meticulous examination, Addison felt a gentle tug on her arm. She turned to find Javier, his dark eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination.

"Hey," he said softly, guiding her a few steps away from the scene. "You okay?"

Addison exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. "Define 'okay.' I'm standing in the middle of what looks like a human barbecue, and I can't make heads or tails of it. And if I’m being really honest, the horror and sci-fi geek in me is trying not to spaz out."

Javier's lips quirked in a half-smile, but his eyes remained serious. "Look, I know you're hell-bent on throwing yourself into work right now. Maybe this is an opportunity."

Addison raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Why don't you stay here with Bauer? Revisit your medical examiner days, really dig into what the hell happened here." Javier's voice was low, urgent. "You've got the skills, Addison. If anyone can make sense of this mess, it's you."

Addison felt a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension. The idea of delving back into forensic analysis was tempting, a familiar territory she'd left behind when joining the FBI. But the bizarreness of this case made her hesitate.

"What about you?" she asked, glancing around the opulent apartment.

"I'll start knocking on doors, see what I can dig up about Keller's recent activities, potential enemies." Javier's jaw tightened. "Someone must know something. I’ll have a word with the neighbor who heard the scream and called it in."

Addison nodded slowly, her mind already racing with possibilities. "Alright, sounds good. But Javier, be careful. Whoever did this..." She trailed off, gesturing to the charred remains.

He grinned and said, “Maybe no one did it. Maybe she just legitimately spontaneously combusted.”

“You sound like an idiot,” she said.

"I know," Javier said softly with a smile.

As Javier turned to leave, Addison felt a sudden urge to reach out, to stop him. To kiss him goodbye. The feeling caught her off guard, and she quickly shoved it aside. There was work to be done.

Taking a deep breath, Addison turned back to the scene, her eyes scanning the room with renewed focus. The plush carpet, the designer furniture, the view of Seattle's skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows – all of it seemed to mock the gruesome remains at the center of it all.

"Alright, Sam," she said, stepping closer to the coroner. "Let's figure out what the hell happened to Dr. Keller."

The familiar scent of death and chemicals hung in the air, triggering memories of her days as a medical examiner. She welcomed the challenge, feeling a spark of excitement beneath her professional demeanor. And already, she was starting to eliminate certain theories and make observations.

"PD thinks it's spontaneous human combustion," Addison said, crouching down beside Bauer.

He glanced up at her, giving her a contemplative look. "And you don't?"

Addison bit her lip, considering her words carefully. "Look, the idea is fascinating, I'll give you that. But scientifically speaking, it's just not possible. There has to be a source, something we're missing."

“A source?”

“Yes. For instance, I don’t smell any sort of gas or chemicals in the air. And for a burn this intense, there should be lingering traces…light smells. And I smell nothing.”

“Yeah, same here. But…” Bauer snorted, gesturing at the charred remains. "If it wasn't human combustion, someone broke in here with a flamethrower and hit her with one huge blast."

"Now you’re thinking," Addison said, her eyes scanning the scene. "But that doesn't explain the lack of other burn marks beyond this initial radius. No scorch patterns on the walls or ceiling. And the small, burned area on the carpet…it just makes no sense.”

She stood up, pacing the perimeter of the room. Her mind tried to reconcile the evidence before her with her scientific training. Part of her wanted to believe in the impossible, to accept that sometimes the world defied explanation. But the larger part, the part that had driven her to become an FBI agent, refused to give up so easily.

"There has to be something we're missing," Addison muttered, more to herself than to Bauer. "Some catalyst, some external factor we haven't considered yet."

Bauer sighed, shaking his head. "Shine, I've seen a lot of strange things in my career, but this... this is something else entirely. Sometimes we have to accept that we don't have all the answers."

His words hit a nerve, reminding Addison of her own unsolved mysteries, of the sister she'd never found. She pushed the thought away, focusing on the present.

"I can't accept that, Sam," she said firmly. "Not without exhausting every possibility first. I mean, I was once obsessed with The X-Files, but those sorts of cases just don’t happen in real life.”

Bauer nodded but then gestured lazily to the remains of Keller with a mixture of frustration and resignation. "I eagerly await your explanation.”

“You’ll have it soon enough.”

“Now,” Bauer said, “At the risk of sounding rude, are you about done here? I need to collect what's left and take it in." He then muttered under his breath: “This should be fun.”

Addison nodded, her mind still racing. "Yeah, go ahead. But Sam, I need you to run a full tox screen and chemical analysis. Anything out of the ordinary, no matter how small."

“What on earth do you hope to find?”

“No clue. Maybe some sort of igniter or chemical. Anything.”

"With what we've got left here, finding something like that might be a tall order," Bauer grumbled, but his eyes softened. "I'll do my best, though.” 

"Thanks, Sam," Addison said, offering a small smile. She watched as he began the grim task of gathering the remains using a series of large plastic bags. Her stomach churning at the thought of what was once a living, breathing person reduced to ashes and bone fragments.

Turning away, Addison began to explore the rest of the apartment. The opulence of Dr. Keller's home stood in stark contrast to the gruesomeness of the scene she'd just left. She moved through a spacious living room, her eyes scanning for any sign of disturbance or additional burn marks.

The walls were adorned with abstract art pieces that probably cost more than Addison's yearly salary. A sleek, white leather sectional dominated the center of the room, facing floor-to-ceiling windows that offered yet another breathtaking view of the Seattle skyline. 

She ran her fingers along the smooth surface of a marble countertop in the adjoining kitchen, noting the lack of any personal touches. No family photos, no knick-knacks, nothing to suggest a life beyond the perfectly curated image of success. She looked at the front door and saw no signs of a break-in. There were also no signs of a struggle or any distress—other than the broken, slightly charred mirror in the bedroom.

As she moved deeper into the apartment, the place started to feel too perfect, too sterile. It felt more like a showroom than a home.

Once again, Addison’s mind wandered to the controversial topic of spontaneous human combustion as she meticulously examined the apartment. Her years as a medical examiner had exposed her to some bizarre cases, but nothing quite like this.

Two particular cases flooded her memory, both of which were quite old but had nabbed her attention during her time as an ME student. The first was the infamous Mary Reeser incident from 1951. All the authorities found was a pile of ashes, a few bone fragments, and her left foot still in a slipper.

She paused by a gleaming marble fireplace, her reflection distorted in its polished surface. The second case came to mind - the strange death of John Irving Bentley in 1966. A man reduced to ash while sitting in his favorite armchair. Reduced to ash, except for the lower right leg and foot. His body had been incinerated but the frame of the chair had remained. A single, intense flash of unimaginable heat that had consumed the body but not the chair.

These were real cases with no explanation. And, on the books, they were indeed categorized as spontaneous human combustion. Also, both cases had no obvious ignition source…just like this one.

She shook her head, frustration building. Not possible, she thought. There has to be an explanation.

Addison's phone buzzed. It was a text from Javier: Any luck?

She quickly typed back: Nothing yet. You?

His response came swiftly: Some gossip to share. Beyond that, it seems rich people don't pay attention to each other.

She sent a thumbs-down emoji and then pocketed her phone.

After several more minutes of fruitless searching, Addison found herself drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows again. A large portion of Seattle sprawled before her, a tapestry of lights and windows against the afternoon sky. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her breath fogging the surface.

"What am I missing?" she whispered, her eyes unfocused. Dr. Vanessa Keller, celebrity cosmetic surgeon to the stars, dead in one of the most bizarre ways I've ever seen. It can't be a coincidence, can it? Someone of this magnitude killed in such an odd way…

She turned back to face the immaculate apartment. High-profile victim, bizarre death... there's got to be a connection.

She felt this with a certainty she couldn’t shake. But when she thought of the state of the body—all bone, ash, and charred tissue—she couldn’t imagine what the connection might be.

CHAPTER FIVE

Addison's eyes scanned the lobby, searching for Javier's familiar face among the growing crowd of curious residents and milling police officers. Even now, outside of the apartment, she was still trying to piece together the bizarre puzzle of Dr. Keller's death. The sterile smell of the apartment building seemed to cling to her clothes, a reminder of the gruesome scene upstairs.

Finally, she spotted Javier's broad shoulders near the entrance. He caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow, silently asking if she was ready to get out of here. Addison nodded, weaving through the crowd to meet him.

"Were you able to find anything useful at all?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Javier leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "Oh, you're gonna love this. Turns out our victim had some serious drama going on."

Addison's interest piqued. "What kind of drama?"

"The juicy kind," Javier replied with a hint of a smirk. "Two of Keller's neighbors were more than happy to spill the tea...including the woman who heard Keller’s screams. Apparently, our victim went through a messy divorce just a few months back. We're talking 'War of the Roses' level nastiness."

Addison thought this over for a moment. A recent divorce could certainly provide motive, but staging spontaneous combustion seemed like an extreme way to get back at an ex. Still, it was worth looking into.

"That's not all," Javier continued. "Seems our celebrity surgeon was also being sued by a fairly high-profile patient. Claims of botched surgery."

"Well, well," Addison mused, her mind already racing with possibilities. "Who's the patient?"

Javier's grin widened. "You ever hear of Cleo Storm?"

Addison couldn't contain her groan. "The pop star? You've got to be kidding me."

"Seattle's own rising star," Javier confirmed. "Ring any bells?"

Unfortunately, it did. Addison had heard Cleo Storm's music here and there over the past year or so. Mostly on local radio stations. The catchy, vapid lyrics had a way of burrowing into her brain like an earworm, much to her annoyance.

"Yeah, I know who she is," Addison admitted reluctantly. "Not exactly my cup of tea, musically speaking."

Javier chuckled. "What, you're not a fan of auto-tuned pop anthems about partying and fabricated heartbreak?"

Addison rolled her eyes. "Let's just say I prefer my music with a little more... substance."

As they bantered, Addison's mind was already spinning with the implications of this new information. A bitter ex-husband and a scorned pop star – two potential suspects with very different motives. But how did either of them fit into the bizarre circumstances of Dr. Keller's death?

"Well," Addison said, pushing aside her distaste for Cleo Storm's music, "looks like we've got our work cut out for us. An angry ex and a lawsuit from a B-list celebrity. This case just got a whole lot more interesting."

Javier nodded, his expression turning serious. "The question is, which lead do we follow first? The ex-husband or the pop princess? From what I gather, the husband is still in the city."

Addison weighed their options. Both avenues of investigation held promise, but time was of the essence. They needed to move quickly before the trail went cold – if it hadn't already.

"Let's start with the ex," she decided. "He's more likely to have intimate knowledge of Dr. Keller's life and routine. Plus, I'd rather delay the inevitable headache of dealing with a celebrity and their entourage for as long as possible."

Javier grinned. "Couldn't agree more, partner. Although, you’d be surprised…it might be easier to find Cleo than you’d think.”

As they headed for the exit, Addison felt all of the odd details being tied into a deeper mystery. Spontaneous combustion, a messy divorce, and a pop star lawsuit – it all seemed too disparate, too random. 

But for now, all they could do was follow the evidence and hope it led them to the truth. Whatever that truth might be.

Addison pushed open the lobby door, a gust of cool Seattle air hitting her face. "Javi," she said, turning to her partner as they walked briskly towards their car, "I can't shake this feeling. A high-profile victim, dead from such a bizarre method? This has to be pointing to a much larger story."

"I hear you,” Javier agreed. “Usually for someone with this much money…this high profile, the murder is much simpler. A shooting. Maybe a stabbing. Which is why I—”

“Nope. I don’t want to hear you say that term one more time.”

“What term?” he asked, smiling. “Look, all I’m saying is if that it smells like a pig and oinks like a pig…it’s probably a pig.”

Addison sighed, feeling a bit surprised that Javier would actually buy into something like the idea of spontaneous human combustion.

As they climbed into the car, Javier turned to her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You know, I find it odd that you have such an issue accepting spontaneous human combustion as the cause of death. Especially given your interests in horror and sci-fi."

Addison buckled her seatbelt, her mind whirring. She loved a good supernatural thriller as much as the next person, but this was real life. People didn't just burst into flames for no reason.

"Look," she said, choosing her words carefully, "a lot of the sci-fi I enjoy deals with time travel, but I don't think time travel exists. This is basically the same thing. The idea of spontaneous human combustion is fascinating, but there's just not enough evidence to support it as a real phenomenon."

Javier started the engine, his expression thoughtful. "Fair point. But you've got to admit, it's a hell of a coincidence that our vic looks like a textbook case of SHC."

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” 

He shrugged playfully and said, “You told me you didn’t want to hear me use the actual term again.”

Addison stared out the window, watching the city blur past. She couldn't deny the similarity, but her instincts told her there was more to this case than met the eye.

Javier drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he thought it over. "I get where you're coming from, Addison. I hate to think something like this is actually real, too. But as it stands, spontaneous combustion is the only logical answer we've got—even if it is weird as hell."

Addison felt a twinge of frustration. She respected Javier's experience, but her analytical mind rebelled against accepting such an outlandish explanation without concrete evidence.

"Logical? There's nothing logical about a person suddenly bursting into flames," she countered, her voice tight. "We'll get real answers when Bauer comes back with the toxicology results. There has to be a scientific explanation for this."

The car fell silent for a moment as they both mulled over the bizarre case. Addison's mind buzzed in an almost spastic way, considering and discarding theories. Something about this whole situation felt off, like a puzzle with missing pieces.

Finally, she spoke up. "Let's get moving. Do we have an address for the ex-husband?"

“Not yet, but I put the request in. Shouldn’t take too much longer.”

A thought struck Addison, and she couldn't help but smirk. "But wait," she said, her tone playfully sarcastic, "if you think it's spontaneous combustion, why are you so willing to go hunt down leads?”

She watched Javier's face, noting the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. He was trying not to smile, she could tell. Despite their differing views on the case, Addison appreciated how well they worked together, balancing each other out.

"Because I'd love to find a real-world explanation. Just because it seems like SHC, I would really like to find a better, less crazy-sounding explanation."

Addison nodded, feeling a small surge of triumph. "Exactly. There's always an explanation, even if it's not immediately obvious. We just need to dig deeper."

"Okay. Are you ready to check these leads?"

“I thought you said we’re still waiting on the husband’s information.”

“We are. But, like I said…it may not be all that difficult to have a word with Cleo Storm.”

She pictured Cleo Storm, all glitter and autotune, surrounded by an army of PR reps and managers. The thought made her wince internally. Addison raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What are you up to, Javi?"

"Remember that undercover gig I did a few years back? The one where I ended up busting the cocaine ring?”

“Yeah…”

"He was tied to one of Cleo Storm's former bodyguards. They were distributing their goods through the crowds at concerts. Cleo's talent manager told me to call him if I ever needed anything. Tickets, autographs, things like that."

"Looks like you have friends in high places.”

"It's a second-rate pop princess," Javier said. "I don't consider that a high place."

"Javier Esposito, you never cease to amaze me," she said, a hint of playful sarcasm in her voice. "So, what's the plan? We just waltz in and ask Cleo Storm if she knows anything about spontaneous human combustion?"

Javier chuckled, still typing away on his phone. "Something like that. I already called the talent agency. Cleo is apparently in a studio right now…a demo studio here in the city. They say they could have her at the talent offices within an hour."

She chuckled and nodded. “You’re amazing, Javi. All this time you’ve had that little nugget in your back pocket and you never told anyone.”

“I got tickets from the guy a few months ago. Donated them to a Make a Wish giveaway. As far as I was concerned, that was the end of the favors. But he seemed eager to help with this, too.”

“Okay then,” Addison said. “Let’s go have a word with Cleo Storm. And that’s not a sentence I thought I’d ever say.”

They chuckled together and after Javier pulled out into traffic he reached over the center console and took her hand. It felt natural. It felt right. And with the way this case was already starting to look, a little normalcy was more than welcome.

CHAPTER SIX

He hummed while he worked. Not just to pass the time, but to silence the buzzing he sometimes heard in his head. He hummed now, as the soft fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an eerie glow across his makeshift lab. Makeshift, yes…but he was quite proud of it. Beakers and test tubes cluttered every available surface, their contents shimmering with malevolent potential. He stood behind the counter, eyes narrowed in concentration as he carefully tilted a small vial.

Amber liquid trickled from the vial's narrow opening, forming a steady stream that disappeared into the clear solution below. His hand remained perfectly steady, not a drop wasted. The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he worked, a low hum escaping his throat.

He set the now-empty vial aside, watching intently as the two liquids swirled and merged. Soon, very soon, his masterpiece would be complete. All those years of painstaking research and experimentation were about to pay off.

The face of Dr. Vanessa Keller flashed through his mind. Such a shame, really. She'd been brilliant in her own right - pioneering new techniques in plastic surgery, pushing the boundaries of what was possible. He’d seen her work; it had been incredible. In another life, they might have been colleagues, maybe even friends.

But sacrifices had to be made in the name of progress. Dr. Keller's death would pave the way for something far greater than either of them could have achieved alone. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. At least her demise had proven the effectiveness of his methods. No marks, no trauma - just another "natural" death that would leave the authorities baffled.

And besides…she’d deserved it.

He reached for another vial, this one filled with a viscous blue liquid. As he prepared to add it to the mixture, his mind wandered to his next targets. They would never see it coming, never suspect the danger lurking in plain sight.

The blue liquid joined its counterparts in the beaker, and he watched with almost childlike fascination as it created mesmerizing swirls and eddies. Beautiful, in its own way. Deadly, but beautiful.

His hand moved automatically, reaching for the glass stirring rod. As he began to mix the solution, his humming grew louder, more insistent. An old lullaby his mother used to sing, though the words were long forgotten. Only the melody remained, a haunting counterpoint to the soft clink of glass against glass.

With a final swirl of the glass rod, he stepped back from the counter and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Five years of work, countless sleepless nights, and endless frustration had led to this moment.

He gazed at the beaker, its contents now a uniform, opalescent liquid. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And so close to perfect."

His mind drifted back to the early days of his project. The failures, the setbacks, the moments of despair when he'd nearly given up. But he'd persevered, driven by a burning need to prove himself, to show the world what he was truly capable of. He'd learned during the trials and errors just what could be accomplished when one sole thing became your focus—when the world dimmed out and shone on just one single thing.

And now he was nearly done. The distribution method was spot on now. Keller had been the experiment. Now, it was time to roll out the proven finished product.

He remembered the frustration of those final tests, watching as his carefully crafted formula failed to achieve the desired effect. The trick, he'd realized, was to create a delivery system so subtle, so innocuous, that the victim would never even know they'd been exposed.

He moved to his workstation, pulling out a thick folder filled with meticulously organized notes. Pages of schedules, habits, and personal details of potential targets filled the file. His fingers trailed over the information, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.

"It was tedious work, but it had been mostly enjoyable…and all necessary. 

He paused on a page detailing the daily routines of his next victim. It was a very busy schedule but it also afforded him many opportunities to strike. . So many opportunities, so many potential points of contact.

He closed the folder, his mind already racing with possibilities. The thrill of the hunt, the meticulous planning, the careful execution - it was intoxicating. Almost as pleasing as the work he did here in his lab. 

He turned back to his workbench, eyes gleaming. The array of vials and beakers before him held promise - each one a potential vessel for his revenge. His fingers danced over the glass containers, caressing them like old friends.

"We’re close now," he murmured, picking up a sleek atomizer. 

He filled the atomizer with his latest batch, holding it up to the light. The liquid inside was clear, innocuous - perfect for blending into any cosmetic product. But, of course…he had other plans.

He set the atomizer down, reaching for his notebook. Flipping it open, he traced his finger down a small list of names. Each one represented a scar on his life, people who had ruined his life…even if they weren’t fully aware of it.

He turned back to his work, methodically filling more atomizers. Each one represented a life he would soon touch - and end. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

And it made him think of flames, hungry and alive.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Songbird Talent Agency was well-hidden within a relatively quiet part of town. it was camouflaged by several buildings that looked identical to it, all of them draped in later afternoon shadows.

Addison stepped into the building, her eyes immediately drawn to the sleek, minimalist design. White walls stretched from floor to ceiling, adorned with abstract art pieces that seemed to float in mid-air. The reception desk, a curved masterpiece of glass and chrome, stood empty. Addison's gaze swept across the polished concrete floors, reflecting the overhead lighting like a mirror.

Right away, a flurry of movement caught Addison's attention. A man in his early forties, sporting a curious combination of a faded band t-shirt, tailored suit jacket, and designer jeans, came bounding across the lobby. His enthusiasm seemed almost manic, a stark difference from the Zen-like atmosphere of the space.

"That was quick," Addison murmured, raising an eyebrow at Javier.

Her partner grinned, a knowing look in his eyes. "That’s Jeff…the guy I told you about. I’d imagine his pop princess has a busy day and he wants to get us ushered in and then out as quickly as possible."

The man reached them, slightly out of breath but beaming. Javier stepped forward, clasping the newcomer's hand in a firm shake. "Jeff, good to see you again." He then turned to Addison and said: “Addison, this is Jeff Lavine, one of Cloe Storm's talent managers," Javier continued, gesturing between them. "Jeff, this is my partner, Special Agent Addison Shine."

Jeff's eyes widened slightly as he regarded her. "A pleasure, Agent Shine. Though I have to say, I'm a bit surprised to see the Bureau interested in our little corner of the entertainment world. What’s going on, anyway, Agent Esposito? You mentioned some things in the media about Chloe and some drama…?”

Addison studied Jeff, noting the slight tremor in his hands and the way his eyes darted between her and Javier. "We're here about Dr. Keller," she said, watching his reaction carefully.

Jeff's smile tightened, almost imperceptibly. "Ah, yes. That unfortunate business with Cloe.” He looked very unhappy all of a sudden as he said, Well, no time to waste then. Follow me, please."

He turned abruptly, leading them through a set of frosted glass doors and down a corridor lined with framed platinum records and larger-than-life photographs of various celebrities. Addison noticed right away that Cloe Storm's image seemed to dominate the hall. Her straight black hair, her hypnotic eyes. And not a single shirt that covered her flat, perfect torso.

Addison stepped into the room, her eyes immediately drawn to the figure behind the massive glass desk. Cloe Storm, in the flesh, was somehow both more and less than Addison had expected. The pop star's delicate features were accentuated by perfectly applied makeup, her blonde hair cascading in artful waves. But there was a brittleness to her, a thinness that spoke of more than just dieting.

Cloe didn't bother to look up, her manicured nails tapping away at her phone screen. The Starbucks cup in her other hand seemed more like a prop than a beverage.

Jeff cleared his throat. "Cloe, honey, these are the agents I mentioned."

Cloe's eyes flicked up, a practiced smile not quite reaching them. "Charmed," she drawled, her gaze already drifting back to her phone.

Addison felt a flash of irritation. She'd dealt with entitled celebrities before, but this was pushing it. "Ms. Storm, I'm Special Agent Addison Shine. This is my partner, Agent Esposito. We have some questions about your association with Dr. Vanessa Keller."

At the mention of Keller's name, Cloe's façade cracked. She set down her phone, a flicker of genuine emotion crossing her face. "What about her? God, am I ever going to get away from that bitch?"

"We'd like you to walk us through what happened with the procedure Dr. Keller performed on you."

Cloe's hand unconsciously went to her chin. "It was supposed to be a minor thing," she said, her voice softer now. "Just a little tweaking to my chin, you know? But when I woke up..." She trailed off, swallowing hard.

"There were complications?" Addison prompted.

Cloe nodded. "I looked like a damn chipmunk. The swelling was insane. I had to cancel shows, disappoint fans." Her eyes hardened. "Do you know what that costs? Not just money, but credibility?"

"Five shows in all”,” Jeff said from his place by the wall. correct?" 

"Yeah," Cloe confirmed, her voice bitter. "Five refunds. Five venues pissed off. Five cities worth of fans thinking I flaked on them." She leaned back in her chair, suddenly looking very young and very tired. "That adds up to more than just dollars and cents."

Addison studied Cloe, seeing past the polished exterior to the vulnerability beneath. This wasn't just about vanity or money. For someone whose entire career depended on image and public perception, a botched procedure like this could be devastating. Addison didn’t necessarily sympathize, but she did understand.

"Ms. Storm," Addison said carefully, "I understand this must have been a difficult experience. But I need to ask - how did you handle the aftermath? Did you have any further contact with Dr. Keller after the procedure?"

Javier spoke up, his voice gentle but probing. "And you were quite vocal about the botched job, right?"

Cloe's perfectly manicured nails drummed against the desk. "Yeah, I was," she admitted, a flicker of shame crossing her face. "I went off on social media. Said some nasty things. Probably shouldn't have, but I was just so... angry."

Addison watched the pop star closely, noting the mix of defiance and regret in her eyes. She pressed on, "When was the last time you spoke with Dr. Keller one-on-one?"

"God, it's been..." Cloe's brow furrowed. "Almost a year now. I ghosted her after the whole mess."

Javier nodded, his expression neutral. "Do you happen to know where Dr. Keller lives?"

"No idea," Cloe said, shaking her head. "Why would I? It's not like we were besties." She sighed and set her Starbucks cup down on the desk. Her demeanor suddenly shifted, impatience creeping into her voice. "Look, I've got shit to do. What is this all about?"

Addison felt a flare of annoyance at Cloe's attitude. Here they were, investigating a brutal murder, and this woman was acting like they were wasting her precious time. She took a breath, reminding herself to stay professional.

"Ms. Storm," Addison said, her voice crisp, "Dr. Keller was murdered last night, in a way that is so bizarre and demented that I will spare you the details. Right now, we're looking into anyone who may have something to do with it."

The effect was instantaneous. Cloe's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock. The cocky pop star facade crumbled, revealing genuine astonishment.

"Murdered?" Cloe whispered, her face draining of color. "And you think... you think I had something to do with it?" Her voice rose, a mix of horror and indignation. "That's insane! I would never—I mean, yeah, I was pissed, but kill someone? Are you out of your minds?"

Addison studied Cloe's reaction carefully. The shock seemed genuine, but in her line of work, Addison had learned that appearances could be deceiving. Still, there was something about the raw fear in Cloe's eyes that gave her pause.

"We're not accusing you of anything right now, Ms. Storm," Addison said, her tone softening slightly. And then, in an almost comical moment, she wondered if Storm was her actual last name. She doubted it. "We're simply following up on all potential leads. Given your public dispute with Dr. Keller, we had to ask."

Jeff Lavine suddenly stepped forward, his face a mask of disbelief and outrage. "This is absurd!" he sputtered, raking a hand through his carefully styled hair. "You can't possibly think Cloe had anything to do with this…with a murder!"

Addison met his gaze steadily, unfazed by his outburst. She'd faced far more intimidating figures in her career. "I suggest you remain calm, Mr. Lavine.”

“Fine. But tell me…when exactly did this murder occur?" Jeff demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Our preliminary investigation suggests sometime last night," Addison replied, her voice calm and measured. She noticed Javier shift beside her, ready to intervene if needed. His protective instincts were kicking in, but Addison appreciated the space he gave her to handle the situation.

Jeff's face reddened, his jaw clenching visibly. "Last night? Are you kidding me? Cloe had a show from eight to eleven. There's no way she could have been involved."

“And what about after the show?” Javier asked.

Cloe straightened in her chair, a hint of her earlier bravado returning. "I was at an after-party until like, four in the morning. I've got pics and videos to prove it."

"That would be extremely helpful, Ms. Storm. Would you mind walking us through your night using your photos?"

As Cloe began swiping through her phone, Addison glanced at Javier. His slight nod confirmed they were on the same page. Even if Cloe's alibi checked out, it didn't necessarily clear her completely. After all, she was very wealthy; she could have easily hired someone to carry out the task for her.

Addison focused on the images Cloe was showing them, her analytical mind already cataloging details timestamps, locations, other individuals present. She knew better than to jump to conclusions, but she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this case was far more complex than it initially appeared.

Cloe continued swiping through her phone, her manicured nail tapping the screen as she showed Addison and Javier a series of photos and videos. The pop star's voice took on an almost bored tone as she narrated.

"Here's me on stage for the finale. Check the time stamp - 10:58 PM. And this is right after, backstage with my crew." She flicked to another image. "Then we hit Club Neon around midnight. Here's me with the DJ, and look, there's Jeff in the background."

Addison leaned in, scrutinizing each image. The timestamps seemed to line up, and the backgrounds matched Cloe's story. But something didn't sit right. She caught Javier's eye, noting the slight furrow in his brow. He felt it, too.

"These all look very consistent, Ms. Storm," Addison said, her mind already racing ahead. "But I have to ask - did you leave the club at any point during the night?"

Cloe rolled her eyes. "Seriously? No, I didn't. I was there until closing. You can ask anyone. And then I went home and crashed."

“Can anyone verify that?”

“My girlfriend.”

As Cloe continued scrolling, now scrolling angrily, Addison's thoughts drifted. The killer could have used a time-delayed method. Or hired someone. Just because Cloe was in the club didn't mean she wasn't involved somehow.

"Ms. Storm," Addison said, interrupting the pop star's monologue about some DJ drama. "Do you have any employees or... associates who might act on your behalf without your direct knowledge?"

Cloe's eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing specific," Addison replied smoothly. "We're just trying to cover all bases."

Jeff shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Look, Cloe's got a whole team. Assistants, security, stylists. But none of them would do anything like... that."

Addison nodded, making a mental note to get a list of all Cloe's staff. She didn't think the pop star was a killer, but this case was strange enough that she couldn't rule out any possibilities yet. 

Cloe came to the end of her pictures, shoving the phone into her pocket. “Anything else?” she asked, nearly barking the question.

“No, not right now,” Addison said. “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Storm. We may need to follow up with you later."

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

It was clear there would be no friendly goodbyes, so Addison simply headed for the door. As she and Javier left the office, she felt the weight of the case pressing down on her. This was turning out to be far more complicated than she'd initially thought. But then again, in her line of work, things rarely turned out to be simple.

She thought of Dr. Keller, on fire in front of her mirror. She thought of the pile of ash and the almost perfect burned circle in the carpet. Shaking her head, she made her way back across the lobby of Songbird Talent Agency, feeling lost and a bit out of her depth.

This case was strange…Loomis had forewarned her. But there was strange, and then there was absurd. And this case was dancing somewhere in the void between both.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Addison blinked against the bright afternoon sunlight as she stepped out of Songbird Talent Agency. The glass door swung shut behind her with a soft whoosh, cutting off the artificial chill of the AC. She glanced at Javier, who was frowning at his phone.

"What's up?" she asked, already dreading another complication.

Javier's dark eyes flicked up to meet hers. "Text from the field office. Got some intel on our victim's ex-husband."

“Good timing,” she said. "Let's hear it."

"Richard Haymond, fifty-three, real estate developer." Javier rattled off the details rapid-fire. "They sent a home address and business address."

Addison checked her watch. Just past four. "Business address is our best bet. He's probably still at work."

Javier nodded, already heading for their sedan. "My thoughts exactly."

As they climbed in, Addison's mind churned. An ex-husband was always a person of interest in cases like this. But something about it already felt too convenient. 

"You good?" Javier's voice cut through her musings as he pulled into traffic.

Addison forced a smile. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"About?"

She sighed, watching the city blur past the window. "An ex-husband is such an obvious suspect."

Javier grunted. "Sometimes the obvious answer is the right one. And when we’re dealing with such a bizarre death, I’m not about to rule anyone out.”

"I know, I know." Addison drummed her fingers on the armrest.

The drive was mercifully short, as the business address was just seven blocks away from the talent agency. Within minutes, they were pulling up to yet another gleaming high-rise. This one seemed to scrape the very sky, its mirrored surface reflecting the late afternoon sun in blinding flashes.

Addison stepped out of the car, squinting against the glare. The sidewalk was a river of suits and designer heels, oblivious to the two FBI agents in their midst. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. As they approached the imposing glass doors, Addison couldn't shake the feeling of being a minnow swimming into shark-infested waters. The sheer opulence of the place made her skin crawl. 

The doors parted silently before them, ushering them into a lobby that seemed more art gallery than office building. Addison's footsteps echoed on the polished marble floor as they made their way to the reception desk.

Addison approached the sleek desk, her badge already in hand. The receptionist, a young woman with immaculately styled hair and a crisp white blouse, looked up with a practiced smile.

"Good afternoon," Addison said, her voice steady. "We're looking for Richard Haymond."

The receptionist's smile faltered for a split second as she glanced at the badge. "Of course. Mr. Haymond's office is on the fifth floor, with Haymond Developments. Take the elevator to your right, and you'll see the company's logo as soon as you exit."

"Thank you," Addison replied, already moving towards the elevators.

As they stepped inside, Javier leaned against the wall, his face serious. "So, Keller was clearly wealthy and apparently so was her ex-husband. Makes you wonder if they were maybe competitive."

“You think there was never enough time for the marriage because of their careers?” Addison asked.

“Maybe.”

They locked eyes for a moment, and she was reminded again of how things had changed between them in the last few weeks. Now that they were physically and, she supposed, romantically involved, her crush on him didn't seem so hopeless and weird. Even in little glances like these, she could see that her feelings were reciprocated.

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a sprawling office space that screamed power and money. Addison's eyes swept the room, taking in the expensive furniture, the bustling employees, and the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city.

"Subtle," Javier muttered sarcastically.

They made their way through the office, following signs to the CEO's suite. 

As they approached a set of imposing double doors, Addison paused, her hand hovering over the handle. She could feel the weight of the moment, the potential answers waiting on the other side.

The office beyond was cavernous, dominated by a massive desk that seemed more like a judge's bench than a workspace. And there, hunched over a laptop, sat Richard Haymond.

Addison's first impression was of a man worn thin by time and stress. His suit was impeccable, but his face told a different story – deep lines etched around his eyes, a permanent furrow between his brows. He looked up as they entered, his gaze sharp despite the obvious fatigue.

"Mr. Haymond?" Addison said, stepping forward.

The man looked up, clearly annoyed. He apparently wasn’t accustomed to people just barging in on him. “Yes? Who are you?”

"I'm Special Agent Addison Shine, and this is my partner, Special Agent Javier Esposito. We're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

The change was immediate. Haymond's posture straightened, a flicker of something – fear? resignation? – passing over his face. "Come in," he said, gesturing to the chairs before his desk. As they settled, Haymond's expression crumpled, a sadness overtaking his features.

"Is this about Vanessa?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Addison felt her eyebrows rise involuntarily. She exchanged a quick glance with Javier, seeing her own surprise mirrored in his eyes. 

"You're aware of what happened?" Addison probed gently.

Haymond nodded, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Her assistant called me earlier today. I... I still can't believe it. We weren’t exactly on good terms and we’ve been apart for nearly four years now but…it shocked me all the same.”

“You’re okay with some questions?” Javier asked.

"Of course," Haymond replied, his gaze distant. "What do you need to know? And please…have a seat.” He gestured to the three chairs lined up perfectly on the other side of his desk.

Addison took one of the chairs and then drew in a deep breath, steeling herself. "I apologize for prying into personal matters, but we need to understand the circumstances surrounding your divorce. Can you tell us why your marriage ended?"

Haymond's face hardened, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Vanessa was unfaithful," he said flatly. "She admitted it and after the fact didn’t even try to hide it. I thought it was like some weird social attack on me…letting everyone know I had never been enough for her. But she refused to tell me who it was. Said it didn't matter, that it was over. But how could it not matter?"

Addison nodded, her mind racing. An affair, a secret lover – it opened up a whole new avenue of investigation. 

Javier spoke up, his tone carefully neutral. "How did things play out after that revelation, Mr. Haymond?"

A bitter laugh escaped Haymond's lips. "How do you think? It got messy. Very messy. The divorce proceedings were... brutal. Vanessa fought tooth and nail, smearing me in the media."

Addison watched Haymond closely, noting the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the desk. There was anger there, old and festering. But was it enough to drive him to murder?

"Mr. Haymond," she began, choosing her words carefully, "I have to ask – "

But before she could finish, Haymond cut her off, his eyes flashing. "I didn't kill her, if that's what you're getting at. I may have hated her at times, but I wouldn't... I couldn't..."

He trailed off, shoulders slumping. Addison felt a pang of sympathy, despite her professional detachment. Whatever had happened between them, it was clear the wounds were still raw.

She leaned forward, her gaze steady on Haymond's face. "You understand, then, why we'd need to speak to you about this. You just said yourself that you hated her at times.”

“Yeah…”

“So, given that…can you provide evidence of where you were all night last night?"

A muscle twitched in Haymond's jaw, anger flaring in his eyes. For a moment, Addison thought he might explode, but he seemed to rein himself in with visible effort.

"I was here until almost eleven," he growled, gesturing at the office around them. "Trying to wrap up a deal about a development over on the Sound. After that, I had drinks with some of my staff." He paused, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I had too much to drink, so I had my girlfriend pick me up from the bar. I stayed at her place. I do that from time to time."

“How long have you had this girlfriend?” Addison asked.

“Not long. Maybe six months?”

Addison nodded, keeping her expression neutral. She could feel Javier's presence beside her, a steady counterpoint to the tension radiating from Haymond. 

"Is there any way to verify these whereabouts?" she asked, her tone deliberately gentle. "We need to be thorough in our investigation, you understand."

Haymond's face flushed, his composure finally cracking. He slammed a hand down on his desk, causing a stack of papers to scatter. Once again, the shift in his mood seemed immediate.

"For Christ's sake!" he exploded. "You people come in here, dredging up the past, accusing me of what? Murdering my ex-wife?" He stood abruptly, looming over them. He then seemed to understand that he’d snapped a bit and did his best to draw it back. "There are security cameras in her lobby, and she has one of those video doorbells. If you absolutely have to have it, I can ask her to send the footage. Would that be enough proof?"

Addison held her ground, unflinching in the face of Haymond's outburst. She'd faced down worse in autopsy rooms and crime scenes. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if this display of anger was genuine indignation or a calculated performance.

"Yes, that would be very helpful, Mr. Haymond," she said calmly. "We appreciate your cooperation."

As Haymond fumbled for his phone, muttering under his breath, Addison exchanged a quick glance with Javier. His slight nod told her he'd picked up on the same undercurrents she had – the lingering bitterness, the barely contained rage. Whether it was enough to make Haymond a killer remained to be seen, but Addison knew they'd need to dig deeper.

Javier spoke next, his voice low and calm. "Mr. Haymond, while we're waiting on that footage, I have another question. Do you have any idea who might have wanted Vanessa dead?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. Addison watched as the anger drained from Haymond's face, replaced by something more contemplative. He sank back into his chair, suddenly looking older and more worn.

"Who would want her dead?" Haymond echoed. "She worked with stuck-up celebrities who get pissed at the slightest thing. I'm sure there's a long list."

The words were flippant, but Addison detected an undercurrent of bitterness. She studied Haymond's face, noting the deep lines etched around his mouth, the shadows under his eyes. 

"Any specific names come to mind?" Addison pressed, keeping her tone neutral.

Haymond shrugged, his gaze drifting to the window. "Take your pick. Half of Hollywood, probably. Vanessa had a talent for pissing people off, even when she was trying to make them look better."

At that moment, Haymond’s phone dinged as a text came through. He read it and then looked to Addison and Javier. “She can send the footage to me within an hour.”

Javier pulled a business card out of his pocket and slid it over to Haymond. “Send it to the address on this card, please.”

“I’ll do that. Now…is there anything else?”

“Not for now,” Addison said. “Again, thanks for your help.”

As they stood to leave, Haymond's voice stopped them. "You know…” he said with a bit resigned defeat in his voice. “You should look into whoever she was cheating on me with. I never got a name, but maybe you can."

Addison turned back, catching the gleam in Haymond's eyes. It was there for just a moment – a spark of something that might have been triumph, or perhaps just bitter satisfaction.

"We'll follow up on all leads, Mr. Haymond," Addison assured him, her mind already racing through the implications. Was Haymond genuinely concerned about finding Vanessa's killer, or was he simply fishing for information about her lover?

As they stepped into the hallway, Addison caught Javier's eye. "What do you think?"

Javier's expression was grim. "I think we've got a lot more digging to do. And that Haymond is likely more interested in getting the name of the man who was sleeping with his wife than getting answers about her death.”

Addison nodded, her gut churning with a mix of anticipation and dread. The case was growing more complex by the minute, and she knew they were only scratching the surface. While heading for the elevator, she allowed herself to wonder what other secrets Vanessa Keller had taken to her grave – and who might be willing to kill in such a depraved way to keep them buried.

CHAPTER NINE

Lily Zhao stared at her reflection in the laptop screen, willing her puffy eyes and disheveled hair to transform into something remotely presentable. The harsh glare of the waiting ring light only emphasized her haggard appearance. She groaned inwardly, knowing her followers expected their queen of anti-aging snark to look flawless.

"Come on, Lily. Get it together," she muttered, reaching for her foundation brush with a shaky hand. As she began to dab concealer under her eyes, fragmented memories from the night before flashed through her mind.

Neon lights pulsing in rhythm with the thunderous bass. The burn of tequila shots sliding down her throat. A sea of writhing bodies on the dance floor, the air thick with sweat and perfume. A series of anxious, greedy hands on her body.

Lily's stomach lurched at the recollection. She set down the makeup brush and took a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea. 

"Why did I think it was a good idea to go out on a Tuesday?" she grumbled, massaging her temples. But she knew why. The rush of adrenaline, the adoration of her followers who recognized her, the thrill of being desired by countless strangers. It was intoxicating.

She glanced at the clock on her laptop. 4:37 PM. Her viewers would be expecting a new video soon. Lily's trademark beauty-shaming content had garnered her millions of followers and lucrative sponsorship deals. She couldn't afford to lose momentum now. If she played her cards right for the rest of the year, she’d end up banking almost twenty million dollars this year. Not too shabby for someone who’d been working at a Hot Topic just three years ago.

With a sigh, Lily reached for the stack of anti-aging products she planned to roast in her video. A $500 wrinkle cream promising to erase decades. A jade roller claiming to sculpt cheekbones. All snake oil peddled to insecure women, in her opinion.

"Hey beauties!" Lily said, practicing her intro, wincing at how raspy her voice sounded. "Ready to shame some overpriced junk that won't make you look a day younger?"

The words felt hollow. All she could think about was how much she longed to crawl back into bed. Images from last night continued to assault her foggy brain...a brain that felt like it had been stomped on by Bigfoot.

Shots of glittering vodka. The feel of strong hands on her waist as she danced. Stumbling out of the club at dawn, giggling with her equally wasted friends. God, what time had she finally passed out?

Lily's head throbbed. She couldn't do this. Not today. Her viewers would just have to wait.

Through the haze of her hangover, Lily tried to piece together the final moments before she'd crashed. She remembered stumbling into her apartment, kicking off her heels, and making a beeline for the kitchen. There, she'd chugged glass after glass of water, desperate to stave off the inevitable hangover. Four aspirin had followed, swallowed dry in her haste.

When she'd finally dragged herself out of bed at four in the afternoon, she'd immediately popped two more pills. But even now, hours later, she felt like death warmed over.

"Some beauty guru I am," Lily muttered, catching sight of her reflection in the computer screen again. Her usually flawless skin was sallow, dark circles prominent under her eyes. Her hair, carefully styled for last night's festivities, now hung in limp, tangled strands around her face.

She sighed, tapping her manicured nails against the desk. There was no way she could film her planned video looking like this. Her fans expected perfection, not this hot mess express.

"Screw it," Lily said, reaching for her phone. "We're going live…”

She navigated to her social media app, finger hovering over the 'Go Live' button. Her fans would understand, right? They were young, hip. They knew what it was like to lose yourself in the music, the lights, the sheer euphoria of a night out. They would appreciate the fact that she was suffering from the world’s worst hangover. Hell, they may even love her more for being so real and transparent with them.

With a deep breath, she pressed the button. Time to face the music - and her followers.

As the live-stream began to connect, another fragment of the previous night flashed through Lily's mind.

Did someone slip me something? she wondered, frowning at the camera. The live chat was filling up, but she barely noticed, lost in the fog of recollection. Was there a…a pill involved? She hated that she could not recall the memory.

Lily shook her head, wincing at the movement. She took a deep breath and began.

"Hey guys," she said, forcing a smile at the camera. "So, um, your girl might have partied a little too hard last night."

The chat exploded with messages right away. Already, there were over three hundred in the chat. Lily squinted, trying to read some of them.

"Wow, you look rough!"

"OMG, did you go to Club Neon? I saw your stories!"

"Spill the tea, sis!"

Lily chuckled weakly. "Yeah, I'm definitely not winning any beauty contests today. But hey, at least I'm keeping it real, right?"

She ran a hand through her tangled hair, debating whether to grab her emergency concealer. "You know what? Screw it. You guys get to see the full hangover look today. Consider it a public service announcement about the dangers of tequila."

As she spoke, a strange warmth began to spread through her stomach. Lily frowned, pressing a hand to her abdomen. It wasn't painful, exactly, but definitely unusual.

"Uh, anyway," she continued, trying to ignore the sensation. "I just wanted to apologize for not having a proper video today. I promise I'll make it up to you guys next week, maybe with an extra spe—"

She broke off, the warmth in her stomach intensifying. The chat was still buzzing, but Lily found it harder to focus on the words. The warmth was spreading, radiating outward from her core. Not only was it painful, but it was fucking weird.

"Sorry, guys," she said, forcing another smile. "I think I might need to wrap this up sooner than expected. Turns out hangovers and live streams don't mix well."

Lily's finger hovered over the 'End Stream' button, but she hesitated. The warmth was intensifying, spreading through her body like wildfire. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.

The words died on her lips as the warmth erupted into an inferno. Her eyes widened, panic rising in her chest. Trying to make her finger move six inches to end the stream was like trying to lift an anvil.

What the hell is happening to me?

"I, uh—" She stammered, her brain scrambling to form coherent thoughts. The chat was scrolling by, concerned messages flashing past, but she couldn't focus on them.

God, I'm on fire. This can't be normal.

Her hands shook as she gripped the edge of her desk. The heat was unbearable now, pulsing behind her eyes and constricting her throat. If this was a fever, it had to be off the charts. 104 easily.

"Sorry, I'm not feeling—" she choked out, her vision blurring. "I think I need to—"

She reached for her phone, desperate to end the stream. Whatever was happening, she didn't want her followers to witness it. But her movements were sluggish, her coordination shot.

This is bad. This is really, really bad.

The heat was everywhere now, consuming her from the inside out. She could feel it in her bones, in her blood, in every cell of her body.

Is this what dying feels like?

The thought flashed through her mind, unbidden and terrifying. She tried to push it away, but the fear clung to her like a second skin. And vaguely, she again wondered…what happened last night? Someone gave me something…someone I sort of know but not really…

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not sure if she was addressing her followers or herself. "I don't know what's—"

Her words cut off abruptly as a fresh wave of heat crashed over her. The world tilted, the edges of her vision darkening.

Her breath caught in her throat as the heat intensified to unbearable levels. Her skin felt like it was stretched too tight, ready to burst at any moment. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, the inferno inside her seemed to rush up her throat, threatening to consume her entirely.

Her eyes locked onto her phone screen, still dutifully recording every agonizing second. Through the haze of pain and confusion, Lily saw herself reflected in the small display. What she witnessed made her blood run cold, despite the overwhelming heat.

Her skin was... changing. Cracking. Like parched earth in a drought, fissures appeared across her face, her arms, everywhere she could see. And from those cracks, impossibly, came light. No, not light. Fire.

She again tried to scream, but the pain was too intense, too visceral. It literally felt like she was sitting on the sun and—

And then the pain erupted into something otherworldly, like a hand reaching out of Hell itself and grasping her. She watched in horror on her phone screen as flames erupted from her body, licking hungrily at the air around her. The sodium lights that usually gave her streams that perfect, flawless glow now seemed dim in comparison to the blaze emanating from her own flesh.

Help…she thought. Please…

But there was no one there to help. Just her, her phone, and the thousands of followers watching in stunned silence as their favorite beauty influencer went up in flames before their very eyes.

CHAPTER TEN

The knock echoed through the hallway as Addison's knuckles rapped against the worn wooden door of Apartment 33. It was 6:25 in the evening, and the fading daylight cast long shadows across the dingy corridor.

As they waited for an answer at the door, Addison's mind churned over the scant details they'd gleaned about Vanessa Keller's assistant—details gained by a simple call to Harper's officers. There had been just one person on the phone. Not only had they given them the assistant's information, they'd also told them that Dr. Keller's offices were closed today out of respect.

Her personal assistant was Eloise Harper. At the age of thirty-six, she’d been Dr. Keller's right-hand woman for a decade. Given that, both Addison and Javier suspected that Eloise probably knew more about the victim than anyone else.

The apartment door finally creaked open, revealing a petite woman with disheveled brown hair and red-rimmed eyes. Eloise Harper looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Addison flashed her badge. "I'm Special Agent Addison Shine, this is my partner Agent Esposito. Are you Eloise Harper?”

The woman nodded and said, “I am.”

“We'd like to ask you a few questions about Dr. Keller, if that's alright."

Eloise's shoulders slumped. "Of course. Please, come in."

The apartment was immaculate - almost obsessively so. Every surface gleamed, books and knick-knacks arranged with military precision. The only sign of disorder was a wastebasket by the couch, overflowing with crumpled tissues.

As they settled onto the pristine sofa, Addison felt oddly out of place.

"Ms. Harper," Addison began gently, "I know this must be difficult for you. How long did you work for Dr. Keller?"

Eloise perched on the edge of an armchair, hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Almost ten years. She... she was more than just my boss. She was my friend. My mentor."

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Addison said. And she meant it. The raw grief etched on Eloise's face was painfully familiar. 

Javier pushed things forward, his tone carefully neutral. "Ms. Harper, we understand Dr. Keller's office has been closed since her death. Is there anything you can tell us about her recent activities? Anyone who might have wanted to harm her?"

Eloise shook her head vehemently. "No, no. Everyone loved Vanessa. She was brilliant, kind..." Her voice cracked. “I mean, I suppose there were some clients here and there who were a bit picky about not getting the exact look they were going for but…nothing serious. Not that I was aware of, anyway. The worst of it came from Cloe Storm…”

“Yes, we already spoke to Ms. Storm earlier in the day, “Addison said.

"Ms. Harper," Javier pressed, “was there anything - anything at all - that seemed unusual in the days before Dr. Keller's death? Any odd phone calls, unexpected visitors?"

Eloise's gaze darted away. She sat ramrod straight, hands clenched, staring fixedly at the wall. "N-no, nothing like that. Everything was normal."

Addison was pretty sure she was telling the truth—doing her best to answer their questions in the midst of her loss.

"Can you tell us about your relationship outside of work?" Addison asked.

Eloise's eyes darted between Addison and Javier. "We were... friends, I suppose. Not best friends or anything, but we'd grab coffee sometimes, chat about our lives." She paused, a faint smile touching her lips. "Dr. Keller was brilliant. I learned so much from her. She was a mentor, really. I think I thought much more of her than she did of me, though."

Addison nodded, maintaining eye contact. "That's a special relationship, having a mentor. I'm sure you two shared a lot." She took a breath, then dove in. "Did that extend to keeping secrets? Perhaps about Dr. Keller's affair while she was married?"

The color drained from Eloise's face. Her hands twisted in her lap. "I... I…”

"Please," Addison said. "The truth. We're doing our best to figure out exactly what happened, and only the truth is going to help."

Eloise's eyes welled with tears. She glanced between them, then let out a shaky sigh. "I... okay. Early on, when the affair started, Dr. Keller came to me. She asked if I knew how to permanently delete messages."

Addison leaned forward, sensing a break on the way. "What kind of messages?"

"Facebook messenger mostly. And emails from our internal server." Eloise's voice was barely above a whisper. "She was so worried about anyone finding out."

Addison's pulse quickened. This was the break they needed. "Did you help her delete them?"

Eloise nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I feel terrible. I knew it was wrong, but... I just wanted to help her. I wasn't sure how to do it all exactly right, so I sort of asked around with a guy in the IT department."

As Eloise dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, Addison fought to keep her expression neutral. Those deleted messages could hold the key to Keller's murder. Addison watched as Eloise's shoulders slumped, the weight of her confession visible in every line of her body. Her fingers trembled as she reached for another tissue from the box on the coffee table.

"Why?" Addison asked, her tone softer than she'd intended. "Why go to such lengths for her?"

Eloise looked up, her eyes brimming with a mix of shame and something else – adoration? "Dr. Keller, she was... everything to me. More than just a boss. A teacher, a friend. I know it was wrong, covering up the affair, but I'd have done anything to keep her safe. To keep her happy."

The raw emotion in Eloise's voice struck a chord in Addison. She'd seen this before – the blinding loyalty that could make good people do questionable things. It was all too human.

Javier cleared his throat. "Ms. Harper, I have to ask – did you ever learn the identity of Dr. Keller's lover?"

Eloise shook her head, wiping her nose. "She was so secretive about it. All I know is that his handle on Facebook was Jonas Hill. But it was obviously fake. Dr. Keller even told me that."

Addison's fingers itched to reach for her phone, to start running that name through databases. They could find out if it was an alias fairly quickly.

"Eloise," Addison said, leaning forward. "Is there anything else? Anything at all that might help us understand what happened to Dr. Keller?"

For a moment, Eloise seemed to teeter on the edge of revelation. Her lips parted, then closed again. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew more."

Addison nodded, but her instincts were screaming that there might be more to uncover here. "Eloise, is there any way to recover those deleted messages? We have people at the bureau who can do it, but it will go a lot smoother and faster if you have a way."

Eloise's frowned, her fingers twisting a tissue. "I... I don't think so. I was thorough. But I suppose I could ask our tech guy." She paused, chewing her lip. "It's just... I feel awful about all of this. Like I'm betraying her trust."

"I understand," Addison said, her voice gentle but firm. "But Dr. Keller's dead, Eloise. We need to find out why."

As Eloise nodded reluctantly, Addison noticed Javier shift beside her. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the screen. His expression hardened over the next several seconds.

"Hey... Shine?" Javier's voice was low, urgent. He jerked his head towards the kitchen. "A word?"

Addison's stomach clenched. She recognized that look. "Excuse us for a moment, Eloise."

They stepped into the small kitchen. The fridge hummed, and somewhere a clock ticked. Javier leaned in close, his breath warm on her ear.

"There's been another one. Another death... another person who seems to have spontaneously combusted."

The words hit Addison like a physical blow. This seemed silly…almost outlandish. Two cases of spontaneous human combustion in such a short time frame? It defied logic, defied everything she knew about forensic science.

"Where?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Downtown. Near Pike Place. They're securing the scene now."

Addison nodded, her thoughts already racing ahead to what they might find. She thought of Dr. Keller's charred remains, of the questions that still haunted her. Now there was another victim, another puzzle to solve.

And, remarkably, another bit of even pointing toward the startling realization that something she’d always thought of as an impossibility might be very real.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The sedan's engine purred urgently while Addison looked at her phone, absorbing the scant details trickling in from Detective Scott Brown's secure texts. He was already at the scene at Pike Place, waiting for them to arrive. The car lurched as Javier swerved around a slow-moving sedan, his jaw clenched in concentration.

"What've we got?" he asked, his voice taut with urgency.

Addison frowned and let out an exasperated sigh. "Not much. The victim is Lily Zhao, twenty-four. Social media influencer."

"Any connection to Keller?" Javier asked.

"I don’t have that level of detail," Addison replied, her mind already racing through possibilities. "But it's early. We barely have anything concrete yet."

She scrolled through the messages again, searching for any overlooked nugget of information. The lack of a full report gnawed at her. As a medical examiner, Addison craved data, hard facts she could sink her teeth into. This drip-feed of information left her feeling frustratingly adrift.

"You okay?" Javier's voice cut through her thoughts. "You've got that look."

Addison glanced up, meeting her partner's concerned gaze in the rearview mirror. "What look?"

"The one where you're overthinking everything and tying yourself in knots," he said with a hint of a smile. "Remember, we don't know anything yet. Let's get there, see what we're dealing with, then start connecting dots."

She nodded, grateful for his grounding presence. Javier's street smarts and years of undercover work gave him a different perspective, one that often balanced out her more academic and often extravagant approach.

They remained quiet during the rest of the ride. Addison wondered if Javier was thinking the same thing she was. Two cases in two days. Was she supposed to now seriously consider that spontaneous human combustion was real? She wasn't sure. And as she considered the query, she got a text from one of the techs at the field office—from the one who had been analyzing the video footage from Vanessa Keller's doorbell and the apartment building's security cameras. She read it, hoping for at least some kind of break.

The video doorbell was damaged. Presumably during attack. Nothing useful there. Still working on security cameras but the footage is grainy and not very good. Will keep you updated.

“Well, damn,” she said.

“What is it?” Javier asked.

“The techies just texted. The video doorbell at Keller’s place was damaged. No footage. And it looks like the security cameras are going to be useless, too.”

Javier sighed and gave a lazy shrug. “That’s a problem for another time, I suppose.” He nodded ahead to another apartment building and said, “We’re here.”

He parked the car in an empty spot in front of a modern apartment building several minutes later. Addison's stomach clenched as she took in the scene before them. Several police cruisers were parked haphazardly, their lights painting the darkening evening in alternating reds and blues. A crowd of onlookers had already gathered, held back by a hastily erected barrier of yellow crime scene tape.

What made Addison's breath catch, however, was the sight of a large fire truck parked near the building's entrance. Given the nature of the suspected cause of death, its presence struck her as darkly ironic. A humorless chuckle escaped her lips before she could stop it.

"Something funny?" Javier asked, raising an eyebrow as they climbed out of the car.

Addison shook her head, immediately regretting the momentary lapse. "Sorry. Just... the fire truck. Bit on the nose, isn't it?"

Javier's expression softened with understanding. "Gallows humor. Been there. Just maybe keep that one to yourself around the local boys, yeah?"

Addison nodded with a guilty smile, squaring her shoulders as they approached the building. They flashed their FBI badges as they rushed past the uniformed officers guarding the entrance. The lobby's polished marble floor echoed with their hurried footsteps.

"Second floor," Addison muttered, drawing from one bit of the minuscule information she’d received in the texts as they headed for the stairwell.

Javier followed close behind as Addison sifted through all of the potential scenarios.. "What are the odds, Javier?” she asked with a slight tremor in her voice. “Two cases of apparent spontaneous combustion in such a short time frame?"

"Slim to none. This has to be connected."

They burst through the second-floor door, immediately spotting Detective Brown waiting outside an apartment halfway down the hall. His complexion was ashen, a sheen of sweat visible on his forehead.

"Agents," Brown greeted them, his voice strained. "Thanks for showing up so quickly. It's... it's not pretty in there."

Addison steeled herself, suddenly feeling very nervous. “Lead the way."

As they entered, Addison's trained eye swept the apartment. Despite the grim atmosphere, she noticed the carefully curated decor. Pastel throw pillows adorned a plush white couch, and fairy lights were strung along the walls. A large, ornate mirror dominated one wall, surrounded by artfully arranged Polaroid photos.

"Looks like our victim had an eye for aesthetics," Addison murmured.

Javier nodded. "Makes sense for a social media influencer. Everything's got to look picture-perfect, right?"

The contrast between the cute, Instagram-worthy space and the horror they were about to face wasn't lost on Addison. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself.

"Over here," Brown called, gesturing towards an open doorway. The other officers present gave it a wide berth, their faces a mix of shock and revulsion.

Addison braced herself, feeling that whatever lay beyond that threshold would challenge even her experienced sensibilities. She glanced at Javier, drawing strength from his steady presence.

As Brown led them into the office space, Addison's nostrils flared at the acrid stench that assaulted her senses. The smell of burned flesh hung heavy in the air, overpowering everything else.

"Jesus," Javier muttered, covering his nose with his sleeve.

Addison's eyes darted around the room, taking in the small lighting rigs and the array of microphones lined up on a nearby shelf. Her gaze settled on the desk at the front of the room, where a laptop sat next to a small stand holding a charred iPhone.

"Looks like she was in the middle of a recording," Addison observed, her voice tight. She approached the desk, careful not to disturb anything. "The phone's completely fried."

Her attention then shifted to the chair behind the desk. What was left of it, anyway. The once-plush office chair had been reduced to its metal frame in some places, wisps of smoke still rising from the remnants of fabric and cushioning.

Fighting back a wave of nausea, Addison circled to the side of the desk for a better view. Her stomach clenched as she noted the charred edge of the desk, its laminate surface bubbled and warped from the intense heat.

And then there were the remains of Lily Zhao. The young woman sat in macabre repose, fused to the metal frame of the chair. Her skeleton was eerily intact, a ghastly testament to the intense, localized nature of the burning. Bits of charred tissue clung to bleached bone, and the acrid smell of burned flesh assaulted Addison's nostrils. An almost tidy pile of ash filled the seat. Some had fallen though to the floor.

"Jesus," she whispered, her analytical mind struggling to process the horror before her. Her gaze caught on something that made her breath hitch – wisps of untouched hair still clinging to the skull. The incongruity of it sent a shiver down her spine.

Javier moved to stand beside her, his face a mask of professional detachment. But Addison knew her partner well enough to see the tension in his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes that betrayed his distress.

"This doesn't make any sense," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "The burning seems to have been localized, but the intensity..." She trailed off, her mind racing through possible explanations. It was just like the scene at Keller’s…only fresher.

Javier's voice pulled her back to the present. "What are you thinking, Addison?"

She shook her head, frustration evident in her voice. "I'm not sure yet. The pattern of burning, the intensity – it's just like the scene at Vanessa Keller’s place.” She then looked to Detective Brown and said, "Who reported it?"

Detective Brown's response only added to the surreal nature of the scene. "That's where it gets even odder. The call came from a young woman in Boulder, Colorado."

"Boulder? How the hell—"

Brown nodded towards the charred iPhone and lighting rig. "It seems Ms. Zhao was live streaming when it happened. The entire thing was sent out, live."

"Are you kidding?" The words tumbled out before Addison could stop them, her professional facade cracking under the weight of this new information. It was both awful and exciting all at the same time.

"I wish I was," Brown replied grimly. "Local PD have already blocked the video from public view, but I've got it right here if you want to take a look."

Addison tried to make sense of it. A live-streamed death meant potential witnesses, but it also meant a whole new level of trauma and media frenzy to contend with. She glanced at Javier, seeing her own conflicted emotions mirrored in his eyes.

"We need to see it," Addison said finally, steeling herself. 

She turned back to Lily Zhao's remains, forcing herself to look past the horror and focus on the details. The pattern of burning, the way the flesh had fused to the metal frame of the chair in a few spots – every aspect could be a crucial piece of the puzzle. As she worked, Addison couldn't shake the feeling that they were dealing with something far beyond their usual cases. Whatever had happened to Lily Zhao and Dr. Keller, it was unlike anything she'd ever encountered before.

And she didn’t know how in the hell they were supposed to find any answers left behind in the ashes.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Addison's stomach twisted into a knot as Brown handed over his phone. She glanced at Javier, catching the hard set of his jaw. He nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of the grim task ahead. 

Taking a deep breath, Addison pressed play.

The screen flickered to life, revealing a young woman with tousled hair and smudged makeup. Despite her disheveled appearance, Lily Zhao radiated an undeniable charm. Her eyes, though slightly bloodshot, sparkled with a mischievous glint.

"Hey there guys..." Lily's voice was raspy, tinged with embarrassment. "Looks like your girl was out partying too late and too hard last night and I—"

Addison's grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles whitening. She'd seen countless bodies in various states of decay, but watching someone in their final moments alive felt different. More intimate. More invasive.

"You okay, Shine?" Javier's voice was low, concern etched in his features.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, cataloging every detail of Lily's appearance. The slight tremor in her hands as she adjusted her hair. The faint sheen of sweat on her brow. Any of these could be clues, hints to explain the inexplicable.

"I don't like this," Addison murmured, more to herself than her partner. "It feels wrong, watching her like this. Knowing what's about to happen."

Javier shifted his weight, crossing his arms. "I know. But we need to see it. Need to understand what we're dealing with."

Addison's analytical mind warred with her empathy. Part of her wanted to look away, to preserve some small measure of dignity for the young woman whose life was about to end in such a horrific manner. But the investigator in her knew Javier was right. They needed every scrap of information they could glean from this video.

"You think she knew?" Addison asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "That something was wrong, I mean. Before it happened."

Javier's expression darkened. "Hard to say. But in my experience, people usually have some kind of... I don't know, premonition, I guess. Even if they don't understand it."

Addison nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen. She watched as Lily continued her apology to her viewers, noting the slight furrow of her brow, the way her fingers drummed nervously against the desk. Was it just embarrassment over her hangover? Or was there something more sinister at play?

"What do you make of her appearance?" Addison asked, pausing the video and zooming in on Lily's face. "Aside from the obvious signs of a rough night."

Javier leaned in, studying the image. "Nothing that screams 'about to burst into flames,' if that's what you're asking. But she does look... I don't know, off somehow. More than just hungover."

Addison nodded, her mind already racing through possibilities. Toxins that could cause spontaneous combustion. Rare medical conditions. Even more outlandish theories she'd dismissed in the past but now found herself reconsidering.

And then, on the screen, Lily began to show signs of discomfort that went beyond a simple hangover. Lily's face contorted, pain etching across her features. She leaned back, pushing away from her desk slightly as if trying to escape an invisible assailant. Addison's breath caught in her throat, her medical training kicking in as she analyzed every twitch and grimace.

"Something's wrong," Addison muttered, her eyes locked on the screen. "Look at her pupils."

Javier leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against hers. "Dilated?"

"Extremely. And her skin—" Addison's words died as Lily's eyes went wide with terror. The young woman's mouth opened in a silent scream, her body rigid with fear.

"Oh God," Addison whispered, her stomach clenching.

A burst of light erupted from Lily's chest, flames licking up her neck and engulfing her face. A jettison of flame also came out of her mouth, tearing through her throat. Addison jerked back, a strangled cry escaping her lips. The phone slipped in her sweaty grip, and she fumbled to keep hold of it.

"Jesus Christ," Javier breathed, his usual composure cracking.

Addison forced herself to watch, her medical examiner's eye cataloging details even as her mind reeled. The flames seemed to consume Lily from the inside out, defying everything Addison knew about fire and human physiology.

"This isn't possible," she said, her voice shaking. "The human body is mostly water. It doesn't just... ignite like this."

Lily's body began to convulse, her head now a writhing mass of fire. Addison's grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles white.

"I can't—" she started, then swallowed hard. "I need to stop."

Javier nodded, gently taking the phone from her trembling hands. "I've got it. You don't need to see anymore."

Addison turned away, her breath coming in short gasps. She'd seen countless bodies, some folded in half and nearly pulverized. She’d performed hundreds of autopsies, but this... this was different. This was watching someone die in real-time, in a way that defied explanation.

"What the hell are we dealing with, Javi?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Javier handed the phone back to Brown. Addison remained in the same place she’d been standing, just five feet or so away from Lily’s remains. The image of Lily's body engulfed in flames burned into her retinas, refusing to fade. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision and her thoughts.

"This can't be real," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "Spontaneous human combustion is a myth, a sensationalized phenomenon. It doesn't happen like this."

She glanced around the room, searching for anything that might contradict what she'd just witnessed. But the facts were undeniable. No signs of accelerant, no evidence of foul play. Just a young woman who had seemingly burst into flames from within.

"Two cases in two days," Addison said, her analytical mind struggling to make sense of it. "The odds are astronomical. It's supposed to be incredibly rare, if it exists at all."

She noticed Javier's face, usually a mask of calm professionalism, now etched with shock. His jaw clenched and unclenched, a tell she'd learned to recognize when he was deeply disturbed.

"This makes no sense," Addison said, her voice quivering. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "None of this adds up."

Javier nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the spot where Lily had been sitting. He then looked over to Detective Brown. "Do we know how many people saw the stream?" he asked, his tone unnaturally even.

Brown shook his head, running a hand through his thinning hair. "No way to be sure just yet. But given the time of day and how quickly it happened... probably no more than three or four hundred viewers. If you look at the chat feature on the video, we know there were no more than three hundred. But that was just in the chat, so…" He shrugged, as if using the gesture to complete his answer.

Addison considered what this could mean for the case. Three hundred potential witnesses to an inexplicable death. Three hundred people who might be spreading wild theories and panic across the internet at this very moment. Thank God the police had already managed to take the video down. But on the internet, did anything ever really disappear?

Her stomach churned as she took one final glance at Lily's charred remains. The acrid smell of burnt flesh clung to her nostrils, a grim reminder of the horror she'd just witnessed. She stumbled out of Lily’s home office, her legs feeling like lead.

The living room swam into focus, its mundane furnishings a jarring contrast to the scene of devastation she'd left behind. Addison's mind whirred, desperately grasping for a logical explanation. The video replayed in her head on an endless loop - Lily's confusion, then panic, then... inferno.

Javier's steady footsteps approached from behind. "You okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Addison shook her head, her breath catching in her throat. "No, Javi. I mean..." She gestured helplessly. "What the hell is going on? Two cases of an extremely rare and even highly debatable phenomenon in two days?"

Her partner's face was grim, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by taut lines of worry. "I know," he said softly. "It's... unprecedented."

Addison's scientific mind rebelled against the impossibility of it all. Spontaneous human combustion was the stuff of urban legends, not FBI case files. And yet, the evidence had been right there before her eyes...

"There has to be an explanation," she muttered, more to herself than to Javier. "Something we're missing."

Javier nodded and said, “Yeah, that seems likely. Two occurrences this close together? It can't be coincidence." He lowered his voice, glancing around to ensure they weren't overheard. "I hate to say it, Addison, but I'm starting to think this has to be manufactured somehow. Someone's behind this."

Addison felt a chill run down her spine. The implications were staggering. "But how?" she whispered. "How could anyone possibly..."

She trailed off, her mind racing through possibilities, each more outlandish than the last. Then, a spark of determination ignited within her. "The victims," she said suddenly. "They might still have the answers we need."

Javier raised an eyebrow. "Coroner?"

Addison nodded grimly. "We need to head to the coroner's office…right now."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dusk had settled over Seattle by the time Addison and Javier stepped into the county coroner's office. The dying sunlight cast long shadows through the front windows of the building. As they were waved through and buzzed in, the familiar scent of antiseptic and formaldehyde washed over Addison as they made their way down the primary corridor, oddly comforting.

"Home sweet home," Addison muttered.

Javier shot her a sideways glance. "Only you would find this place homey. Most people might even be…I don’t know…a little unsettled."

Addison shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips. "What can I say? I've got a thing for fluorescent lighting and the dead."

As they walked down the hallway, memories flooded back - late nights hunched over bodies, piecing together final moments, the rush of solving seemingly impossible puzzles. For a moment, Addison wondered if she'd made the right choice leaving for the FBI. It happened from time to time, especially when a case seemed to be centered around visits to morgues and examination rooms.

"You miss it?" Javier asked, reading her expression.

Addison hesitated. "Sometimes. The work was... simpler then. Just me and the evidence."

"And now you've got my charming company to deal with," Javier quipped.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Lucky me."

They reached Exam Room 4, where the receptionist up front had told them they would find Sam Bauer. The harsh fluorescent light spilled out from under the door. Addison pushed it open, revealing Bauer hunched over a microscope, his salt-and-pepper hair disheveled.

"Knock knock," Addison called out. "You decent in here, Sam?"

“Decent?” he asked, shaking his head. “Sure.”

“What've you got for us on Vanessa Keller?"

Sam's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Addison recognized that look - it was the same one she'd worn countless times when stumbling upon a breakthrough. “I think I may actually have something for you. But…you came to me instead of waiting for my call…which makes me think this is now a bit more urgent. Another one, right?”

Addison nodded. "Spontaneous combustion. Just like Keller. How’d you know?"

“I got the call about twenty minutes ago. Sent my assistant to handle the initial assessment." He gestured to the microscope. "I couldn't tear myself away from this. Addison, I've never seen anything like it."

Addison's pulse quickened. She leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "What are we looking at?"

"Take a look for yourself," Bauer said, stepping aside.

Addison peered into the microscope, adjusting the focus. At first, she saw only charred tissue, but as she fine-tuned the image, something caught her eye. Tiny, crystalline structures scattered throughout the sample.

"What the hell?" she muttered.

Sam's voice was filled with a mix of awe and concern. "I found traces of an extremely volatile chemical compound. When combined with another substance, it burns hotter and faster than anything I've ever encountered. It's similar to white phosphorus, but... slightly different."

Addison straightened, her mind racing through possibilities. "How did you isolate it?"

Sam grabbed a nearby tablet, pulling up a series of chemical analyses. "I started with standard toxicology, but nothing unusual showed up. Then I noticed these anomalies in the burn patterns." He swiped through a series of photos. "See how the tissue disintegration is almost... surgical in its precision?"

Addison nodded, her eyes narrowing as she studied the images. "So you went deeper."

"Exactly," Sam confirmed. "I ran the samples through the mass spectrometer. That's when I found it - this chemical signature that didn't match anything in our database."

Javier, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Could it be some kind of accelerant?"

Sam shook his head. "That's the thing. It's not just on the surface. It's throughout the tissue samples. As if..."

"As if Keller ingested it," Addison finished.

“Yes.”

A wave of relief washed over Addison, tinged with a grim sort of satisfaction. Finally, a thread of logic. Something she could sink her teeth into rather than wondering about the fables of spontaneous human combustion. 

"So, we're dealing with something ingested," Addison mused, her fingers drumming against the edge of the exam table. "Any ideas on how this substance could have gotten into Keller's system?"

Bauer’s baffled expression mirrored her own. "I was just thinking the same thing. Given the distribution throughout the tissue samples, it had to have been ingested somehow."

Addison nodded, her mind already filling with possibilities. Years of experience as a medical examiner bubbled to the surface, mixing with her FBI training. "Food? Drink? Medication?"

"Could be any of those," Sam agreed. "We'll need to run more tests to narrow it down."

"Hold up," Javier said. "Even if our victims somehow swallowed this freaky chemical, how the hell does it get lit up? Are we talking about some kind of human Molotov cocktail here?"

Addison turned to her partner, appreciating his ability to cut through the scientific jargon to the heart of the matter. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together…most of the time.

"Actually," she said, "stomach acid could be enough to trigger it...maybe. But we're talking about an incredibly potent chemical here. The reaction would have to be almost instantaneous once it hit the stomach lining. Whatever this is, it's not just deadly – it's precisely engineered."

Addison felt a chill run down her spine. The clinical part of her mind was fascinated by the chemistry involved, but the human part recoiled at the implications. Someone out there was turning people into unwitting bombs, and they had no idea who might be next.

Javier sighed and said, “That explanation…there are a lot of maybes…what-ifs. It makes the idea of spontaneous combustion seem easier.”

Bauer cleared his throat, drawing Addison's attention back to the examination table. "There's another issue we need to consider," he said. "If someone ingested this chemical directly, they'd go up in flames immediately. The theory of force-feeding doesn't hold water. The killer would be engulfed along with the victim."

Addison's eyes widened as a possibility struck her. "What if it's not direct ingestion?" she posited, her voice gaining momentum. "What if the chemical is encased in some kind of chambered capsule? Like a slow release. One that only breaks down when it hits the stomach acid."

She paced the room, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "It would explain the delay. The capsule could be designed to withstand saliva and esophageal passage, only dissolving once it reaches the stomach."

Javier leaned against the wall, his expression a mix of admiration and concern. "Damn, Shine. Sometimes I forget how that brain of yours works."

“Thanks.”

He grinned. “I’m not entirely sure that was a compliment.”

Bauer was still going on, considering her theory. "It's plausible," he admitted. "A time-release mechanism would certainly fit the evidence we're seeing. But it would require an extremely sophisticated knowledge of biochemistry and pharmacology."

Addison felt a familiar tingle of excitement mixed with dread. They were getting closer to understanding the how, but the why still eluded them. And the level of expertise required to pull this off was terrifying.

"If we're right about this," she said, her voice low, "we're dealing with someone who not only has access to highly volatile chemicals but also the ability to engineer a delivery system this precise. It's... unsettling, to say the least."

“So we’re talking medicines now, right?” Javier asked. “Maybe medicinal capsules?”

"Potentially. We need to focus on the victims' medications," Addison said. "If our killer is using some kind of doctored pill, that's our best lead."

Javier nodded. “Let’s head back to Keller’s apartment, then. See what we can find out about any medications she might have been taking.”

As they walked out of the coroner's office, Addison couldn't shake the memories of her time as a medical examiner, the countless hours spent in rooms just like this one. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet the familiarity was comforting in its own strange way. She wondered if this wave of nostalgia would ever fully go away whenever she revisited her old haunts.

"You okay, Addison?" Javier asked, his eyes studying her face as they stepped into the cool evening air.

She took a deep breath of the evening air. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... thinking about how different things were back when I worked here."

"Miss it?" Javier's tone was casual, but Addison could hear the underlying curiosity.

She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Not really. The dead might be easier to deal with sometimes, but I prefer trying to stop people from ending up on those tables in the first place."

As they climbed into their car, Addison's dissected the possibilities. "We need to look for anything out of the ordinary in Keller's medicine cabinet,” she said. “Prescription bottles that don't match her known medical history, pills that look slightly different from their counterparts."

Javier started the engine, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "What if we don't find anything? The killer could have cleaned out any evidence after... you know."

"Then we move on to the new victim’s residence. We keep looking until we find something. There has to be something…”

As they drove through the darkening streets of Seattle, Addison began to feel a mix of excitement and dread. They were on the verge of a breakthrough, she could feel it. Sure, the discovery of off chemicals in the ashen remains of Keller were odd to say the least…but it had at least pointed them in a specific direction.

The only question that remained, though, was if that new direction would lead them to their killer or only more bizarre deaths.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When Addison and Javier arrived back at Vanessa Keller’s high-end apartment building, their first stop was by the apartment manager's office. The door was cracked open, but Javier still knocked all the same. 

"Come in," a gruff voice called from inside.

Addison pushed the door open, revealing a cramped office cluttered with stacks of papers and old coffee mugs. The manager, a portly man with thinning hair, looked up from his computer screen. The entire scene was the polar opposite of the class and sophistication displayed throughout the rest of the building.

"FBI," Addison said, flashing her badge. "We need the key to Dr. Vanessa Keller's apartment."

The manager's eyebrows shot up. "Again? I thought you guys were done up there."

"Just a few loose ends to tie up," Javier explained smoothly.

As the manager rummaged through a drawer, Addison's mind whirred. What if they were wrong about the ingestion theory? What if they were missing something obvious? It did seem like a bit of a stretch, she supposed. She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Here you go," the manager said, holding out a key card. 

Addison nodded, taking the card. "We'll be in and out. Thank you."

They made their way to the elevator; a small space between every floor revealed glass partitions that looked out onto the city. After only a few seconds, the elevator dinged, and they stepped out into the penthouse foyer. Addison swiped the key card, and the door clicked open.

The apartment was eerily quiet, a stark difference from the chaos of their last visit. Addison's footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet as she made her way through the living room. The place still reeked of money, all sleek lines and modern art. But now it felt hollow, like a museum after hours. And knowing that the scorch mark was waiting for them in the bedroom—the scene of Dr. Keller’s odd death—made it even stranger.

As they approached the bedroom, Addison's gaze was drawn to that very same dark spot on the carpet. She paused, her throat tightening. Though she’d only ever seen Keller’s remains in that spot, she could imagine her standing there in the moment of combustion, her body contorted in agony. The image sent a chill down her spine.

Javier passed by her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he made his way to the attached master bathroom. Addison followed after him, wondering what Dr. Keller's last moments had been like? Had she known what was happening to her? The questions swirled in her mind, each more unsettling than the last.

Addison's eyes swept across the pristine marble sink, landing on the medicine cabinet. It was designed to look like a large, ornate cabinet. She pulled it open, the mirror reflecting her determined expression.

"Alright, let's see what we've got here," she murmured, her keen gaze cataloging the contents.

The shelves were a hodgepodge of everyday items – allergy meds, eye drops, stool softeners, vitamins. Nothing out of the ordinary. But nestled among them were three prescription bottles that caught her attention.

"Javier, check this out," Addison said, carefully lifting the containers. "Three prescriptions. One's an anxiety med.” She popped the top off it and peered inside, seeing soft, white pills. “But not in capsule form. But these other two..." She held up the bottles, showing prescriptions for antibiotics and sleeping pills. "Both capsules."

Javier leaned in, his attention snared. "Okay. And you're thinking, what, exactly??"

"I’m wondering if our killer's using some kind of slow-release capsule for the chemical. And if so…maybe he could have somehow slipped one into one of these bottles.” 

She unscrewed the caps, tipping a few pills from each bottle onto the counter. The capsules clattered against the marble, identical in size and color.

"Damn," Addison muttered, frustration creeping into her voice. "They look exactly the same. If the killer was trying to mimic these, they'd need to know the exact specifications."

She picked up a capsule, turning it over in her gloved hand. The weight felt right, the markings perfect. Nothing screamed 'fake' to her trained eye.

Javier scratched his chin, his expression grim. "So the question is... if the killer truly did somehow put a fake pill with this deadly chemical inside, which medicine was it? And that’s with me ignoring the fact that the killer somehow got into this apartment, knew where their pills were located and dropped one or two into the bottle…all without Keller knowing.”

Addison sighed, carefully returning the pills to their bottles. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? We're dealing with someone who has access to Dr. Keller's apartment, knowledge of her medications, and the ability to create a near-perfect replica."

She closed the medicine cabinet, catching her reflection in the mirror. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced than ever, a testament to the long hours and sleepless nights this case had brought.

"We need more information," Addison said, turning to face Javier. "This is all circumstantial. We don't even know for sure if the chemical was ingested through medication. It’s basically just a hunch at this point."

Javier nodded, his eyes scanning the bathroom one last time. "True, but it's a solid lead. Better than what we had an hour ago."

As they prepared to leave, Addison couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they were missing something crucial. The pieces were there, just out of reach, like a word on the tip of her tongue.

She grabbed her phone, opening up the meager case files that had been accumulated to this point. "Maybe Richard Haymond might have some insight," she muttered, more to herself than to Javier. She dialed the ex-husband’s number and placed the call on speaker mode, the ringtone echoing in the quiet bathroom.

“Hello?” Haymond answered on the third ring.

"Mr. Haymond? This is Agent Shine from the FBI again. I have a few more questions about Vanessa."

Javier leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Addison intently.

“Okay, what do you need?” Haymond asked with little emotion.

“We’re wondering if you happen to know if she was recently taking any medications.”

“No clue,” he said.

“Do you know if she perhaps had some sort of habit? Maybe an unhealthy one with prescription meds?”

“Not when we’re together, no. The only medicines I have saw her take were sleep aids. Almost every single night…the woman had a hard time falling asleep the natural way.”

Addison looked to the pill bottle with the sleeping pills. Bingo…

"And how long had she been relying on them?" Addison asked.

“At last two years before we split. Now…let me clarify. I would not say she abused them. She’d just become reliant on them.”

“I understand. Thank you, Mr. Haymond.”

She ended the call and looked to Javier. “So if the killer did somehow know about Dr. Keller’s reliance on sleeping pills…”

“That’s where he dumped them…maybe,” Javier said. “But, again…for that to work, the killer would have needed access not just to her home, but to her medicine bottles. They'd have to know her routines, her habits."

Addison walked back to the medicine cabinet, opening it once more to look at the bottle of sleeping pills. "It's a wild theory, Javier. We don't have solid evidence yet, but..."

"But it feels right," Javier finished for her. “In a weird way.”

Addison nodded, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through her. "Exactly. The killer could have slipped a doctored pill into her regular medication. She wouldn't have suspected a thing. And if she takes them almost daily, I doubt she even looks at the pills. There could have been one that looked slightly different, and she would have never known."

"We need to dig deeper into Dr. Keller's life,” Javier said. “Find out who had access to her home…anyone close enough to her to know her routines.”

“And let’s not forget Lily Zhao,” Addison said. “We need to figure out if she'd taken any meds recently too. In her livestream, Lily mentioned being severely hungover, remember?"

"Yeah, she looked pretty rough," Javier agreed, crossing his arms.

Addison's fingers drummed against the countertop. "A hangover like that? She must've taken something for it. Aspirin, ibuprofen... some kind of pain reliever."

"Makes sense," Javier said, nodding slowly. "So we've got two victims who likely took meds within hours of their deaths. Those are links. And now that the body of Dr. Keller has provided some answers, let's see what good old research can turn up."

The implications hung heavy in the air. Addison's gaze drifted to the burn mark on the bedroom carpet visible through the bathroom door. She could almost see Dr. Keller's body there, writhing in agony.

As they left the bathroom, Addison couldn't shake the feeling that they were getting closer to unraveling this bizarre case. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her of all the times she'd been sure, only to hit a dead end. She pushed the doubt aside. They had a lead now, however tenuous. It was time to follow it wherever it might lead.

9 - 9

Javier's eyes gleamed with determination as he spoke. "Still, we've got two victims with the same very weird cause of death and we believe they were taking meds the same day they died. 

Addison nodded, her mind already racing ahead to the next steps. She glanced around the pristine bathroom one last time, committing every detail to memory. The gleaming fixtures, the neatly arranged bottles, the lingering scent of expensive perfume – all of it spoke of a life abruptly cut short.

As they made their way back out of the apartment, Addison turned to Javier. "What if we're dealing with someone who has access to both medical knowledge and chemical expertise? Someone who could create these modified capsules in their home or some sort of makeshift laboratory?"

Javier frowned, considering. "That's a pretty specific skill set. Narrows down our suspect pool, at least."

“Maybe we should cross-reference anyone connected to both victims who might have that kind of background.”

“And speaking of backgrounds,” Javier said, “think about this: Dr. Keller was a plastic surgeon, and Lily Zhao was an influencer. Both would have connections to cosmetics companies. And those companies employ chemists who work with all sorts of compounds. Right?""

Addison’s eyebrows shot up. "That's a good angle. It’s good to remember you’re more than just good looks."

They left the apartment with several new ideas. They were both caught up in it—so much so that when they stepped back into the elevator, Javier reached out and took Addison’s hand when the doors slid closed in front of them.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

His eyes were fixed on the blank white wall, unseeing and unblinking. The television droned on in front of him, but he wasn't watching; it was nothing more than a cacophony of meaningless chatter and laughter that failed to penetrate the heavy silence enveloping him. He sat motionless in his worn armchair, deep in thought.

Two hours. It had been two hours since another part of his carefully crafted plan should have come to fruition. Two hours since Lily Zhao, that vapid social media influencer with her perfectly curated life, should have gone up in flames. The image of her burning form danced before his eyes, a macabre fantasy that brought a hint of a smile to his otherwise expressionless face.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, its steady ticking, a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. Doubt began to creep in, insidious tendrils of uncertainty worming their way into his thoughts. Had something gone wrong? Had his calculations been off?

No. He shook his head slightly, pushing away the unwelcome thoughts. He had been meticulous, precise. There was no room for error in his work. Lily Zhao was dead. She had to be.

His mind drifted back to the night at the club, memories flooding in like a tidal wave. The pulsing lights, the thrumming bass that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. He’d hated every moment of it, but it had been necessary in order to get close to her.

And there she had been: Lily, stumbling through the crowd, her usually impeccable appearance even more attention-grabbing than usual.

"Hey!" She had called out, her voice slurred and too loud. "I know you!"

He had plastered on a smile, feigning pleasant surprise. "Lily! What a coincidence. Having a good night?"

She had laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "The best! You should join us!" She gestured vaguely towards a group of equally intoxicated individuals.

"Maybe next time," he had replied, watching as she swayed on her feet. "You seem like you're having enough fun for both of us. Besides…I'm getting old, you see. I'm about to head home."

Lily had giggled, leaning in close. Her breath reeked of alcohol. She’d planted a kiss on his cheek before turning back to her friend. But that’s when he’d struck…when he’d switched on the charm and played to her gullibility.

“Oh, hey…I do have a question for you.”

“Sure! What?”

“What’s your hangover remedy?”

She giggled. She was already drunk, that much was clear. And that was going to help him tremendously.

“Black coffee and lots of water. Why?”

“You ever heard of Morning Ritual?”

“Is that a drink?”

“No. A pill…a surefire hangover remedy. It’s new…sort of. I don’t know that it’s even been announced yet. But one of the companies I’m working with is about to release it.”

“What company?”

He smiled at her and said, “I’m not allowed to say.” He then leaned in closer and looked into her drunken eyes. “I’ve given out a few tonight. A pill and my address. I’m testing it out. It’s not exactly…legal…but…”

“Say no more!” she said. “Got any more on you?”

“I do. But seriously…Lily, you can’t tell anyone. But when it is released, maybe you can talk about it on your YouTube channel?”

“Yes! Now gimmee!”

And it had been that easy. He’d had to stress that she should wait until she got home and take it with lots of water. He’d made sure he hammered that point home so she wouldn’t forget. When she’d tucked the pill, placed in a little plastic bag, into her pocket, he knew he had her. He had watched her go back to her friends, having to contain a laugh.

A loud commercial on the TV jerked him back to the present. He blinked, the memories fading like wisps of smoke. His hands were trembling slightly, and he forced them to still.

Two hours. Maybe three now. Surely that was enough time. Surely by now, Lily Zhao was nothing more than ashes and a cautionary tale.

He stood abruptly, unable to bear the oppressive silence of the room any longer. He needed to know. Needed to see the fruits of his labor splashed across the news. Needed the validation that his work, his purpose, was not in vain.

With jerky movements, he grabbed the remote and began flipping through the channels, searching for any hint of breaking news. Any sign that his carefully laid plans had come to pass.

Nothing. Just the usual mindless drivel and manufactured drama.

But he felt certain she was gone. His memories shifted back again…this time to the moment he’d been standing in front of Lily’s door roughly six hours ago.

He’s rapped his knuckles softly against Lily's door, the sound barely audible even in the quiet hallway. His heart raced, a mix of anticipation and lingering affection. When no response came, he reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the cool metal of the spare key she'd given him months ago.

A wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he slid the key into the lock. She’d given it to him with such hope and confidence and even then he’d thought just how stupid and irresponsible it was of her. Christ, how many other people had the key to her apartment if she handed it out so frivolously?

But the tumblers clicked, a sound that once meant coming home to her embrace. Now, it was the prelude to something far darker.

He pushed the door open and slipped inside. The apartment was dim, heavy curtains drawn against the early afternoon sun. 

He reached into his jacket, withdrawing a small pillbox. The capsules inside were his life's work, the culmination of years of research and planning. For a moment, he considered heading to the bathroom, slipping one into her headache medication. It would be easier that way, less personal. It was, after all, just as he’d done for Vanessa Keller, placing her special pill on top of her sleeping medication.

But then he heard it – the soft, rhythmic breathing coming from Lily’s bedroom. She was out cold, probably still sleeping off last night's bender. This was almost too perfect.

Padding silently down the hallway, he pushed open her bedroom door. There she lay, sprawled across the bed, makeup smeared and hair a tangled mess. So different from the polished image she presented to her millions of followers.

He perched on the edge of the mattress, reaching for the glass of water on her nightstand. Gently, he cradled her head, bringing the glass to her lips. "Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed, his voice achingly tender. "Just a little sip. It'll make you feel better."

Lily stirred slightly, eyes fluttering but never fully opening. She swallowed reflexively, downing some of the water. When she was done, she didn’t even look at him. her eyes were still closed, and she made a noise that sounded like "Thanks."

Next came the pill. “Come on, go ahead,” he told her. “For the headache.”

She’s sighed, but parted her lips to take it. And with another sip of water, it was done. She’d taken the pill in a half-stupor.

He set the glass down and stepped away from the bed. "Sweet dreams," he murmured, before silently exiting the apartment, leaving behind only the ticking time bomb nestled in her system.

The recollection of it all had him rising from the chair again. The TV droned on, a meaningless jumble of sound and color. His feet carried him towards the basement door, each step measured and deliberate.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he descended. The air grew cooler, tinged with the sharp scent of chemicals. As he flicked on the lights, his makeshift lab came into view. Pristine beakers gleamed on freshly wiped counters. Bunsen burners stood at attention, waiting for their next task.

A sense of calm washed over him. Here, surrounded by the tools of his craft, he felt truly at home. He ran a hand along the edge of his workstation, savoring the smooth, cool surface.

His gaze fell on the small glass container pushed gently to the corner of the closest working surface. Inside lay row upon row of carefully crafted capsules; there were eight remaining, though he didn’t need that much. he’d made extra, just in case. A lot extra. Who knew what the future might hold?

He closed his eyes, memories flooding back. The sterile halls of his former place of employment, the polished sheen of the chemistry lab. The thrill of discovery as he mixed compounds, pushing the boundaries of what was possible. 

He settled onto a stool, elbows propped on the workbench. His mind drifted further back to his first job. A tiny startup, barely more than a glorified garage operation. But even then, his talent had shone through. Some had called him a risk takers. Others, an innovator.

Those words had been a source of pride once. Now they felt like mockery.

He remembered the rush of success, the steady climb up the corporate ladder. The day he'd been headhunted by one of the biggest names in beauty cosmetics. The world had been at his feet then, an oyster waiting to be cracked open.

Funny how quickly it all falls apart, he thought.

His fingers twitched, muscle memory reaching for beakers and test tubes no longer needed. The formulas were perfected now, his deadly creations complete. All that remained was to watch the dominoes fall, one by one.

Down here, in this sterile sanctuary, he could almost pretend the last few years had never happened. That he was still that bright-eyed chemist with the world at his feet, instead of...this.

He breathed in the security of his lab, centering himself. With one last glance around the lab, he headed back upstairs. The time for reminiscing was over. Now, it was time to act again. 

He emerged from the basement, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light upstairs. A faint smile played across his lips as he savored the anticipation of what was to come.

He moved to the kitchen, methodically washing his hands at the sink. The routine was comforting, familiar. Like prepping for surgery, he thought wryly. In a way, that's exactly what this was - excising the cancer that had eaten away at his life.

Drying his hands, he caught sight of his reflection in the window. The man staring back at him was a far cry from the ambitious young chemist he'd once been. But that was fine. More than fine, really. He was ambitious now…driven by things no one else would ever understand.

He looked to the TV one last time. Still nothing on the strange death of Lily Zhao. But that was okay, He trusted his work. He trusted the process. He couldn’t let this derail him.

He had so much more to do…more lives to burn.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Addison's eyes were starting to burn…a poor descriptor, giving the nature of the case they were working on. But they were becoming a bit strained from staring at the computer screen for hours. The harsh fluorescent light of her office cast long shadows across her desk, where she and Javier sat side by side, hunched over their respective laptops. A coffee cup far too close to being empty sat to her right.

As she scrolled through yet another article about Dr. Vanessa Keller, her mind wandered a bit. She found herself thinking of Jane…no surprise there, as she tended to think of her several times a day. However, this time she was thinking about one moment in particular—when Jane had gone to a sleepover at a friend’s house for the very first time. She’d been so excited and had even asked Addison what she should pack. Addison had thought nothing of it as Jane prepared for the sleepover and was actually excited for her sister. Sleepovers were, after all, a big milestone in growing up.

What she had not expected, though, was how badly she’d missed Jane. She’d not gotten much sleep that night because the house simply did not feel the same without Jane in it. She hadn’t cried over it, but it was the first time in her life when she’d stopped to consider—even at the young age of eleven—just how much her sister was indeed a part of her.

Addison had no idea why that certain memory was bouncing around in her head as she looked over information about Keller. She had long ago come to understand that whenever she got deep into research, her brain sort of took over and tended to go for little trips down memory lane that she often chose to sidestep. Maybe that was all it was.

Her train of thought came derailed when she felt Javier's hand resting gently on her thigh. She glanced over at him, noting the furrow in his brow as he concentrated on whatever information he'd found about Lily Zhao. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, despite the grim nature of their work. She’d never in a million years dreamed that Javier would be touching her in such a way—and surely never at work!

"Find anything interesting?" Addison asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Javier shook his head, leaning back in his chair. His hand remained on her leg, a warm and comforting presence. "Not much. Zhao had millions of followers, but it's mostly selfies and product endorsements. And there are tons of them. You?"

Addison sighed, rubbing her temples. "Nothing we didn't already know. Keller was well-respected in her field, had a string of suspected affairs but only one of them was public. But I did find out that she apparently pissed off a couple of cosmetic companies in the past."

“How so?”

"She publicly stated that some of their ingredients were harmful to the skin. The companies tried to sue her for it but failed."

Javier's eyebrows shot up. "That's interesting. Any connection to our case?"

Addison shrugged, frustration gnawing at her. "I don't know. It doesn't seem particularly relevant, but..." She trailed off, her mind racing through possibilities.

"But your gut says otherwise," Javier finished for her, squeezing her thigh gently.

She nodded, grateful for his understanding. "Yeah. I can't put my finger on it, but something about it feels important."

Javier leaned in closer, his breath warm on her cheek. Addison turned to face him, their noses nearly touching. For a moment, she forgot about the case, lost in the intensity of his gaze. Then reality crashed back in, and she cleared her throat, pulling away slightly.

"I just wish I could see the connection more clearly. It's like there's a piece missing, you know?"

Addison tried to focus on the information in front of her, but her mind kept drifting to the warmth of Javier's touch, the closeness of his body. She silently cursed herself for getting distracted. People were dead, and here she was, daydreaming about her partner. And the daydreaming was easier now that they were actually an item. Well, sort of.

A glance at her watch made her groan. "9:45 already?" she muttered. "God, I need caffeine.” She pushed back from her desk, the chair wheels squeaking in protest. "I'm making a coffee run. Want anything?"

Javier smirked at her. "No thanks. Some of us don't need that tenth cup of the day to stay alert," he quipped.

Addison rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a grin. "Yeah, yeah, Mr. Superhuman. We mere mortals need our fixes." She stuck her tongue out at him playfully as she headed for the door.

The hallway stretched before her, eerily quiet for this time of night. Addison's footsteps echoed off the walls as she made her way to the break room. The silence made her skin prickle, a reminder of how late it had gotten, and how much further along this case had been drawn out.

As she rounded the corner, the faint sound of typing drifted from somewhere down the hall. Addison paused, realizing she and Javier weren't the only night owls burning the midnight oil. But the building was otherwise as quiet as the grave.

In the break room, she filled her mug with the sludge that passed for coffee after hours. She wasn’t a coffee snob by any means, but she did wish the bureau would spring for something better. As she stirred in creamer, her mind wandered back to the case.

Maybe we're looking at this all wrong, she mused. What if it's not about who they were, but what they represented? She thought of the beauty companies that had gone after Keller…of the reputation Lily had garnered for herself.

A grin spread across her face as pieces started to click into place. She hurried back to the office, careful not to spill her precious cargo. The quiet of the building no longer felt oppressive, but charged with possibility. She made her way back to the office and set her coffee mug down on the desk with a soft thud. 

She looked to Javier, prepared to tell him what she had considered while in the break room. But for just a moment, the tension of the day caught up to her. And, because the hallway was basically deserted beyond her office door, she allowed herself a few seconds of spontaneity.

Without warning, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Javier's. His eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly melted into it. Quickly, his hands found their way to her face, rough fingertips tracing her cheekbones. She tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, relishing the softness there.

The kiss deepened, tongues exploring, breath mingling. Heat coursed through Addison's body, setting every nerve ending on fire. For a moment, the case, the victims, the entire world faded away. There was only this – the taste of him, the solid warmth of his body, the quiet sounds of desire escaping them both. And naturally, that was not a good thing. She knew the case had to come first.

Reluctantly, Addison pulled away, her chest heaving. She sank back into her chair, a mixture of embarrassment and exhilaration coloring her cheeks.

"Sorry," she said, running a hand through her tousled hair. "I've been wanting to do that all day... and no one's around right now, so I figured it was safe."

Javier's eyes sparkled with amusement and something darker, more primal. "Well," he said, voice husky and with a smile on his face. "If no one's around, maybe we can fulfill my sex-on-a-desk fantasy."

Addison snorted, trying to mask how the suggestion made her pulse quicken. "Your fantasy sounds very painful and awkward," she quipped, aiming for a light tone. "Besides, I really don't want our first time together to be a hurried, awkward romp."

Even as the words left her mouth, a part of her brain – the part not dedicated to solving murders – conjured images of papers scattered on the floor, of Javier's strong hands gripping her hips. She shifted in her seat, hoping he couldn't read the desire on her face.

"We should probably focus on the case," Addison said, reaching for her now-lukewarm coffee. She took a sip, grimacing at the taste. "Though I'm starting to think we need stronger stuff than this to crack it."

Javier chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "I told you, some of us don't need that tenth cup to stay alert." His eyes never left her face, and Addison felt a thrill run through her at the intensity of his gaze.

She looked away, turning back to her computer screen, she couldn't quite shake the lingering warmth of Javier's touch, or the promise of what might come once this was all over.

Addison cleared her throat, forcing her mind back to the grim reality of their case. "So, did you find anything new about Lily Zhao while I was away?"

Javier ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and amusement. "Nothing earth-shattering. Unless you count the billion TikTok videos and Instagram posts I haven't had time to watch." He tapped his fingers on the desk, a rapid staccato that matched Addison's racing pulse. "What I do know is she had a reputation for cyberbullying and pushing some pretty toxic beauty standards."

"Toxic how?" Addison asked, leaning forward.

"Extreme diets, dangerous skin lightening treatments, the works," Javier replied, his voice tight with disgust. "She'd shame her followers for not looking 'perfect' enough, then push products that promised to fix their 'flaws.' And some of these products cost a ton of money."

As Javier spoke, the pieces began to click together in Addison's mind. She stood abruptly, pacing the small confines of her office. "Oh, so that reminds me of something I thought in the break room,” Addison said. “Dr. Keller was nearly sued by cosmetic companies for speaking out against harmful ingredients, right?"

Javier nodded, his eyes tracking her movement. "Yeah, but what's the connection?"

"What if our killer is targeting people they see as vain or morally corrupt in the beauty industry? Dr. Keller might have been speaking out, but she was still part of that world—performing cosmetic surgery to make the aging look younger and beautiful. And Lily was actively promoting harmful practices, right? Both were knee deep in reshaping the appearances of others."

“Yeah…go on…”

"But here's the thing,” she continued. “Beyond that surface connection, these two victims don't seem linked at all. Is this personal vendetta, or just someone lashing out at an entire industry?"

Javier leaned back, his chair creaking. "That's a hell of a theory, Addison. But if you're right, we've got a big problem on our hands."

Addison nodded grimly. "Until we know for sure, this killer could remain at large, with a whole industry of potential targets." 

She slumped back into her chair, the weight of their task settling heavily on her shoulders. "Looks like we’ve got more digging to do.”

Javier nodded, sighed, and sat back up, back rigid as he typed into his laptop. Addison did the same, wondering if there might be some golden thread that they’d simply not yet seen. And if they found it and pulled at it…maybe it would lead them to their killer. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

When Adriana came awake, it felt like someone had shoved an ice pick through the base of her skull. She groaned, her mind taking a moment to figure out what was going on. Where was she? What time was it? Her fingers fumbled across the nightstand, knocking over a glass of water before finally finding the clock. 11:45 p.m. "Shit," she muttered, rolling onto her back.

Adriana had crawled into bed at 10:05, desperate for sleep after her long flight from Paris. But jet lag was a cruel mistress, toying with her circadian rhythms like a cat with a mouse. Her body felt leaden, weighed down by exhaustion, yet her mind buzzed with residual adrenaline from the fashion show.

It had been her first time walking for Chanel during Paris Fashion Week. The nerves had nearly overwhelmed her backstage, her stomach roiling as she paced in towering stilettos.

Adriana closed her eyes, trying to recapture that electric moment when she'd first stepped onto the runway. The sea of faces, the flash of cameras, the pulsing music - it had all faded away until there was nothing but her and the catwalk. Each step precise, each turn practiced to perfection. She'd felt invincible, unstoppable.

She’d hoped the memory would help the groggy hell of jet lag go away, but it did no such thing. Worse, she was embarrassed that it had this sort of effect on her. It had just been Paris to Seattle. it wasn’t like she’d endured some hellish eighteen-hour flight and crossed time zones a hundred times.

The nausea hit without warning, her stomach clenching painfully. Adriana's eyes flew open, all thoughts of triumph evaporating. 

"No, no, no," she groaned. "Not now."

She tried to take deep breaths, willing the queasiness away. But it only intensified, a sickening warmth spreading through her core. Maybe it was just residual nerves, still lurking after the show…after one of the biggest moments of her modeling career.

But even as this thought passed through her head, she knew it wasn’t true. This felt different, wrong somehow. A creeping unease settled over her, raising goosebumps along her arms. This felt like sickness…like she needed to puke, and it was going to come all the way down from her toes.

She forced herself to sit up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The room swam for a moment, and she gripped the edge of the mattress until it steadied. 

"Okay, okay," Adriana said, taking another deep breath.

She stood slowly, testing her balance. The nausea was still there, but manageable. For now. Adriana squared her shoulders, determined to power through. She was a professional, after all. A little jet lag and indigestion weren't going to keep her down.

But as she took a step towards the bathroom, her stomach roiled again. It was to the point now that she knew she’d not be able to will the sickness away. Her body was demanding that it needed to get something out. Whether she wanted to or not, she needed to puke. 

Adriana froze, suddenly uncertain. Something was very wrong, and for the first time in a long while, she felt truly afraid.

Adriana's tried to piece together the puzzle of her sudden illness. She attempted to recall the in-flight meal. What had it been? Chicken... maybe? Some sort of vegetable? The details were frustratingly hazy.

As she pondered the mysterious airplane food, a sharp pang twisted her insides. "Shit," she hissed, doubling over slightly. The discomfort was escalating rapidly, transforming from a dull ache to something far more insistent.

Adriana took a tentative step, then another grimacing as each movement sent a fresh wave of nausea through her. The bathroom seemed miles away, an oasis of porcelain salvation.

As she shuffled past her full-length mirror, a flash of silk caught her eye. Despite her discomfort, Adriana couldn't help but pause. The nightie hugged her curves perfectly, a masterpiece of design and craftsmanship. The garment was a gift from Jean-Paul, that brilliant bastard in Paris. It made her feel like a goddess, even as her insides rebelled.

Adriana ran her hands over the smooth fabric, relishing the cool touch against her feverish skin. At least I look fabulous while I'm dying, she thought.

The moment of vanity passed quickly as another cramp seized her. Adriana gritted her teeth, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her palms. 

She resumed her slow march, each step a battle against her roiling stomach. As she neared the toilet, a chilling thought struck her. What if this wasn't just bad airline food? What if she’d picked up the flu on the plane?

No, that wasn’t right, either. No…something was wrong here. Something felt…off.

Her stomach twisted violently, forcing her thoughts back to the immediate crisis. She lunged for the toilet, her long legs tangling in the silky nightgown as she dropped to her knees on the cold tile floor.

"Shit, shit, shit," she hissed, fumbling with the toilet lid. Her hands shook as she lifted it, barely managing to position herself before the first wave hit.

She retched, her body convulsing as it expelled the contents of her stomach. Tears stung her eyes, mascara running in dark streaks down her cheeks. Between heaves, she gasped for air, her chest burning. God, she hated puking.

When the first wave was over, she pressed her forehead against the cool porcelain. After only a few seconds, another cramp seized her, and she vomited again. This time, when it passed, she felt a moment of relief. Her stomach was still angry as hell, but it felt much better now.

Had it passed? Adriana sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Well, that was graceful," she muttered, her throat raw. "Real cover girl material right there."

As the nausea began to subside, Adriana thought that maybe it was just jet lag. She knew it bothered people in different ways. But she'd never experienced it quite like this before. Maybe she’d been right about the food, too. Maybe it was food poisoning from that dubious airline chicken?

She thought of Naomi, her friend and mentor. A lingerie model, very popular in Tokyo. She was always the picture of poise, no matter how grueling the travel schedule. And here she was, reduced to a mess on her bathroom floor after one transatlantic flight.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the toilet handle. Just as her fingers brushed the cool metal, something caught her eye. Amidst the murky water and the disgusting contents of her stomach, a small semi-clear object bobbed innocuously.

"What the—" she muttered, leaning closer.

Her eyes widened as recognition dawned. A capsule. A pill. Floating there like some sinister message in a bottle.

A rush of heat flooded her body, her skin suddenly flushed and prickling. Her throat constricted, each breath becoming a labored wheeze. Panic clawed at her chest as the realization hit: this was no ordinary illness. And once again, her stomach seemed to clench.

Allergic reaction, her mind demanded. Is that what this is? She’d felt the flush of heat and the prickling before. And now it was becoming hard to breathe…

Her gaze fixed on the capsule, horror mixing with revulsion. She knew what she had to do.

"Ah, God help me," Adriana hissed, steeling herself. 

With a grimace, she plunged her hand into the toilet, fishing out the pill. The sensation made her gag, but she forced herself to focus. Grabbing a square of toilet paper, she carefully wrapped the capsule.

Evidence, she thought. For the doctors…

Her vision swam as she stumbled out of the bathroom, the world tilting dangerously. Adriana lurched towards her nightstand, nearly falling as she snatched her phone.

"Come on, come on," she urged, her fingers clumsy as she dialed 911.

The operator's voice seemed to come from far away. "911, what's your emergency?"

"I need... help," Adriana wheezed, her throat closing more with each passing second. There was now also a deep and growing itch there as her throat began to feel like it was closing up. She felt it everywhere…in her head, behind her eyes. “I think... I've been... poisoned."

As she struggled to give her address, darkness crept at the edges of her vision. The last thing Adriana saw before consciousness slipped away was the glint of the wrapped pill on her nightstand – a tiny harbinger of the danger that had found her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The watch on Addison’s arm ticked relentlessly, its thin arms mocking her with each passing minute. 12:10 AM. She blinked hard, her eyes burning from hours of staring at screens filled with an endless stream of social media posts, videos, and FBI database entries. 

Addison leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head as she let out a frustrated groan. "God, I never thought I'd say this, but I think I actually hate social media now," she muttered, glancing over at Javier.

Javier chuckled, his eyes still glued to his monitor. "Welcome to the club. I've been a card-carrying member for years."

She rolled her chair closer to his desk, peering at the video playing on his screen. It showed Lily Zhao, their second victim, prattling on about some new skincare routine. Addison fought the urge to roll her eyes. She hated to think ill of the dead, but the more she saw this young woman go on and on about beauty products and bashing those she saw as beneath her, it was hard to see her in any sort of positive light.

"How can someone talk for fifteen minutes straight about moisturizer?" she wondered aloud. "I swear, if I have to hear her say 'lit from within glow' one more time, I might lose it."

Javier paused the video, turning to face her with a wry smile. "You and me both. But hey, at least we know she was... what was it? 'Incredibly aggravating and annoying'?"

Addison snorted. "That's putting it mildly. I mean, I get that this was her job, but come on. There's only so much vapid beauty talk a person can take."

She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. The initial excitement of potentially connecting the two victims through the beauty industry had long since faded, replaced by mind-numbing tedium as they combed through every aspect of Lily Zhao's online presence.

Addison pushed away from the desk, her chair rolling back a few feet. She stood up, stretching again as she paced the small area between their desks. Her mind raced through the facts of the case, trying to find a connection she might have missed. She was getting hung up on the oddity of the deaths. With murders so extravagant and weird, she’d expected to find obvious, common links. But other than their involvement in the beauty products industry, there seemed to be absolutely nothing.

With a deep sigh, she shook her head and looked over to Javier. "I think I'm going to take a break. Not a long one, though. Maybe head back to my place, check in on Snape, maybe catch a shower."

Javier raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Why don't you just go home and get some sleep? It's not like we're drowning in leads here."

Addison paused, considering his suggestion. Part of her longed for the comfort of her bed, the chance to shut off her brain for just a few hours. But something nagged at her, a persistent feeling that if they kept relentlessly searching, they were bound to turn up something.

"No," she said finally, her voice firm. "No naps. I feel bad enough sneaking out for a shower and to check on the dumb cat. I feel like we need to stay on our toes on this one. It's all just so damned weird."

Javier nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Alright, if you're sure. But at least take a real break, okay? Clear your head. Sometimes stepping away is the best thing you can do."

Addison smiled gratefully at her partner. "Thanks, Javier. I'll try. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will strike while I'm shampooing."

As she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door, she paused with her hand on the knob. A sudden impulse seized her, and before she could think better of it, she turned back to Javier.

"Hey, why don't you come with me?" The words tumbled out, surprising even herself. "Maybe you could use a shower, too.” Her cheeks reddened when she added: “And maybe I can help."

Javier's eyebrows shot up, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Whoa, Shine. Are you only this forward and horny at work?"

Heat crept up Addison's neck, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact. "You know what? Maybe." She shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as her heart raced.

Javier leaned back in his chair, studying her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. "If you're serious, I'll gladly accept that offer."

Addison's stomach fluttered. This was happening. She nodded, unable to form words. Yet at the same time, she knew they had to focus on the case. But really, in the dead of night with no viable leads, was it completely awful of them to take fifteen or twenty minutes to themselves?

As they gathered their things, Addison's mind whirled. This was a massive step. It didn't necessarily mean sex, but it would be the most intimate thing they'd done. The thought of Javier seeing her fully naked sent a shiver down her spine—equal parts terror and excitement.

They headed for the door together, and it was then that her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her pocket, cursing under her breath. When she saw Sam Bauer's name on the screen, her heart sank. She knew she had to answer. And she knew that any soapy dreams she had of Javier were going to have to wait.

"Shit," she muttered, looking apologetically at Javier. "It's Bauer. We have to take this."

She answered the call quickly, wondering what it said about her that she was equally excited about this potentially huge lead as she was about the idea of showering with Javier.

"Bauer, what's up?" she said.

Javier leaned against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on her. Addison tried to focus on Bauer's words, but the lingering tension between her and Javier made it difficult.

"Shine, you're not gonna believe this," Bauer's gruff voice crackled through the speaker. "Remember that medicinal capsule theory you had? Well, I got to thinking about it, and I made some calls."

Addison's eyebrows shot up. "You did? To whom?"

"Friends at local hospitals. I asked them to keep an ear out for any emergency calls about fevers, intense body heat, or suspicious meds. Didn't expect much, to be honest…that’s why I didn’t bother reaching out to you and Esposito to let you know."

Addison's pulse quickened. "But?"

"But I just got a call less than five minutes ago."

She locked eyes with Javier, mouthing potential break. He straightened, instantly alert.

"What are the details?" Addison asked, her mind already racing through possibilities. She beckoned Javier closer, switching the phone to speaker mode.

Bauer's voice filled the quiet hallway. "A woman named Adriana Garcia called 911. Right now, it’s being billed as a suspected allergic reaction. Here's the kicker – she knows she took some medicine, but barely remembers it. Something for jet lag, to help her sleep."

Addison's breath caught in her throat. "Where is she now?"

"Seattle General. She's in rough shape, but..." Bauer paused, maybe just for effect, Addison thought. "The nurse who called me said they have the pill there at the hospital. Apparently, Ms. Garcia got sick and puked it up.”

Adrenaline surged through Addison's veins. This could be it – the break they'd been waiting for. She glanced at Javier, seeing her own excitement mirrored in his expression.

"We're on our way," Addison said, already moving towards the exit. "Thanks, Bauer. You might've just cracked this case wide open for us."

She hung up, turning to Javier. She was practically bursting to get out of the door and to Seattle General. "Looks like our shower's gonna have to wait," she told him.

He nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "We’ll definitely put that in rain-check category.”

They hurried out of the office and made their way down the hall to the elevators. The doors slid open with a soft ding. They stepped inside, shoulders brushing in the confined space. Addison's skin tingled at the contact, her mind momentarily flashing to what could have been.

All she knew for sure was that whether from the heated thoughts of Javier or from this new lead, Addison was no longer as tired as she was ten minutes ago. It was past midnight, but Addison suddenly felt as if she had just woken up from a deep sleep and was now ready to take on the world.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The blast of adrenaline and excitement was still with them when they arrived at the hospital. Addison was moving so quickly that the automatic sliding doors at the Emergency entrance almost weren’t fast enough for her. She and Javier made a direct line to the reception desk, each footstep loaded with urgency.

"We need to see Adriana Garcia," she blurted out to the woman behind the desk, flashing her FBI badge. 

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, glanced at the computer screen. Sensing their urgency, she scanned the listing of patients quickly. "Ms. Garcia is in the ICU. I'm afraid she's not able to take visitors at the moment."

Addison placed her palms flat on the counter and leaned in closer. "We need to speak with one of her nurses or doctors, then. It's urgent."

The receptionist's lips thinned, but she reached for the phone. "I'll page Dr. Scully. Please have a seat right over there."

Addison paced over to the waiting area chairs but did not sit down. There was simply too much energy thrumming through her. She thought about the pill that Bauer had mentioned. If it was actually from the hands of the killer, it could answer every question they had…and maybe lead them right to the bastard. Of course, it was being called an allergic reaction…and that was a very long stretch from spontaneous human combustion. This entire thing with the capsule and Adriana Garcia may not be related to their case at all.

"What are you thinking, Shine?" Javier asked from one of the plastic chairs. “You look…frazzled.”

She stopped, turning to face him. "I know it's a long shot, but if this is connected to our case..." She trailed off, biting her lower lip.

Javier nodded, encouraging her to continue. "Go on, break it down for me."

Addison took a deep breath, her analytical mind kicking into high gear. "Okay, so we're looking at a medicinal capsule that triggered an allergic reaction. To create something like that, you'd need a thorough understanding of pharmacology and immunology."

She began ticking off points on her fingers. "First, you'd need a binding agent to hold the capsule together. Then, a filler to bulk it up – something like microcrystalline cellulose or lactose. But here's where it gets tricky: you'd need to incorporate an allergen that's common enough to affect a significant portion of the population, but not so common that it would raise immediate suspicion."

Javier leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Like what?"

"Well, peanut oil is a classic, but it's too well-known. Maybe something like sunflower lecithin or carrageenan. Both are used in pharmaceuticals, but they can cause reactions in some people." She paused, letting her own words sink in for a moment before she continued. "The real kicker would be disguising the allergen within the capsule's coating or mixing it with the active ingredient."

Javier was smiling at her, nodding along. “Is it bad that I find your deep knowledge of this stuff sexy?”

“It could be,” she said. “But on the other hand, I also know that this could have nothing at all to do with our case.”

Before she could go on, she heard the elevator ding nearby. When they looked in that direction, a harried-looking doctor in scrubs stepped out. Addison straightened, pushing her theories aside for the moment.

The doctor strode towards them, his gait brisk and impatient. Addison noted his tall frame and the deep-set frown lines etched around his mouth. He didn't look pleased to be there.

"Agents, how do you do? I'm Dr. Scully," he said, his voice clipped. "You wanted to speak about Adriana Garcia?"

Addison stepped forward, extending her hand. "Dr. Addison Shine, FBI. This is my partner, Agent Esposito. How is Ms. Garcia doing?"

Dr. Scully's handshake was perfunctory at best. "She'll likely be fine. Right now, we're focusing on stabilizing her breathing. It was touch-and-go for a while, but the epinephrine is doing its job. Right now, she just needs her rest."

Addison felt a mix of relief and urgency. Adriana was alive, which meant they had a potential witness. But it also meant she might still be in danger. And as cruel as it sounded, she wasn’t much good to them in terms of catching the killer if she was unable to have visitors.

"Doctor, I hate to pry, but this could be related to an ongoing investigation," Addison said, choosing her words carefully. "Do you happen to have a sample of whatever caused her reaction? We were told there was some sort of pill involved."

Dr. Scully's eyebrows rose slightly. "As a matter of fact, we do. Better than a sample, actually. She brought in the pill itself. Seems she vomited it up before collapsing. Some of the capsule is, of course, corroded and eaten away, but it’s otherwise well preserved."

“Can we see it?"

"It's in our secure lab," Dr. Scully replied, his tone suggesting he was already regretting mentioning it. "We're running tests to determine its composition."

Addison exchanged a quick glance with Javier. They couldn't let this opportunity slip away. "Dr. Scully, I know this is unorthodox, but it's crucial we examine that pill. Would it be possible for us to see it? I do have a background as a medical examiner, so I'm somewhat accustomed to such tests."

Dr. Scully's frown deepened. "Agent Shine, that's highly irregular. We have protocols—"

"I understand," Addison interjected, her voice low and urgent. "But if this is connected to our case, more lives could be at stake. Please, we need to see that pill."

She held Dr. Scully's gaze, willing him to understand the gravity of the situation. For a moment, she thought he might refuse. Then his shoulders sagged slightly.

"Fine," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. "Follow me. But I want it on record that I protested."

“Noted,” Javier said.

As they followed Dr. Scully towards the elevators, Addison felt a mix of triumph and trepidation. They were one step closer to unraveling this mystery, but whoever had targeted Adriana might already be planning their next move.

The three of them stepped onto the elevator and it ascended with a soft hum, the tension palpable in the confined space. After about twenty seconds, they came to a stop and the doors slid open with a ding. Stepping out, Dr. Scully led them down a sterile hallway. The antiseptic smell grew stronger as they approached a glass-walled lab. Scully opened the door with a key card he took from his pocket.

Inside, a figure hunched over a microscope, engrossed in their work. Addison was admittedly a bit envious of him.

"Dr. Chen," Scully called as they entered. "These are the agents that just arrived, asking about Ms. Garcia."

The doctor at the microscope looked up, curiosity replacing the initial annoyance in their eyes. He seemed far more agreeable to the situation than Dr. Scully. "Ah, yes. You're here about the mystery pill."

Addison stepped forward, her gaze drawn to the equipment scattered across the lab bench. "Have you made any progress in analyzing it?"

“A bit, though we've just started. It's a complex compound, unlike anything I've seen before."

Javier cleared his throat. "Do you have any idea what might have caused Ms. Garcia's reaction?"

"That's the million-dollar question," Dr. Chen replied, turning back to the microscope. "We're still trying to isolate the components."

Addison felt a momentary sting of defeat. She needed more information. "Dr. Scully, is there anything in Adriana's medical history you saw that might explain this? Any known allergies?"

Scully shook his head. "Nothing on record. And she's been too unstable to give us a coherent medical history."

“However,” Dr. Chen said, “what I have been able to find so far is certainly worth a look.” Chen stepped aside and gestured toward the microscope.

Addison moved closer, her heart rate picking up. "What is it?"

Dr. Chen stepped aside, gesturing to the microscope. "See for yourself. The outer coating of the pill? It's saturated with sunflower oil."

Addison peered through the lens, her breath catching as she saw the telltale globules. She looked up, meeting Dr. Chen's gaze. "Sunflower oil? That's pretty common for gel-heavy pills, right?”

"In some, yes…but not in these quantities," Dr. Chen confirmed. "I'm going to assume Ms. Garcia may be allergic to sunflower oil. This pill is practically coated in it."

Addison quickly started connecting dots and recalling how she'd even mentioned sunflower oil to Javier out in the waiting room. A custom-made pill designed to trigger an allergic reaction. Or maybe the allergic reaction was just in Ariana Garcia. Maybe it was supposed to cause combustion somehow, like with Keller and Lily Zhao. But if Garcia had a sunflower allergy…

“Maybe the allergy responded much faster than the compounds within the pill,” she muttered. “Maybe her allergy saved her life.”

“What’s that?” Chen asked.

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

“What’s with this sunflower oil?” Javier asked. “What’s the big deal?”

Dr. Chen moved back to the microscope. "Typically, capsules have a bit of sunflower oil in them. It helps the medicine go down easier, lubricates the throat. But there’s an above-average amount on this capsule. It makes me think it may have been tampered with.”

“Could it have been created in someone’s home?” Addison asked. “Maybe some sort of makeshift lab?”

The doctor's eyebrows shot up. "Funny you should ask. I was wondering the same thing myself." He gestured for Addison to look through the microscope again. "See how the capsule walls are thicker than standard? And there's something else..."

Addison leaned in, her eye pressed against the lens. The capsule's structure was indeed unusual, and within it, she could see an odd, crystalline substance. "What is that?"

Dr. Chen shrugged. "Not sure yet. There's a very weird substance there. I'd need to run some tests to identify it properly."

"How long would those tests take?"

"A few hours, at least," Dr. Chen replied. "Maybe longer, depending on what we're dealing with."

Addison bit her lip, weighing their options. Time was of the essence, but they needed solid evidence. A hunch formed in her mind, a dark possibility based on the victims' symptoms. "Could it possibly have the same properties as white phosphorus?"

Dr. Chen's eyes widened slightly. He was clearly shocked to have been asked about such a specific thing. "White phosphorus? That's... an interesting theory." He paused, considering. "I wouldn't know just from looking. Again... I'd need to run some tests."

Addison nodded, her mind already racing through the implications. If she was right, they were dealing with a killer who had access to dangerous chemicals and the knowledge to weaponize them in very odd ways. 

"Dr. Chen," Addison said, her voice steady despite the urgency she felt, "I know you have other cases, but this is critical. How quickly can you get those tests started? I hate to push, but we've got two dead women who could be linked to this. And there could even be more on the way."

“I can get on it right away. Give me your number, and I'll call you as soon as I have anything concrete."

Addison fished a business card from her pocket, handing it over. As they left the lab, she felt a mix of anticipation and dread churning in her stomach. They were close to something, she could feel it. Now there was just waiting…more damned waiting.

Javier pulled out his phone as they strode down the sterile hospital corridor. "This is looking more and more like our guy," he muttered, his fingers flying over the keypad.

“Who’re you calling?” Addison asked.

“Loomis. I think we need to get protection on Adriana Garcia ASAP. If this is our killer, and he meant to take her out..."

Addison knew where he was going with the thought, and finished for him.

"He might come back to finish the job." 

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Seattle skyline blurred past as Addison navigated through traffic, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. Her mind churned with possibilities about what they might find in Adriana Garcia's apartment. Next to her, Javier's hurried voice filled the car as he spoke with FBI contacts, hunting for any leads on Adriana's family.

He’d just ended a call as Addison took a left at a stoplight, following the GPS directions to Adriana’s apartment.

"Anything?" Addison asked during a brief lull.

Javier shook his head, frustration etched on his face. "Nothing yet. But I've got a few more numbers to try. It’s looking like she doesn’t have family in the city. They seem to be scattered around everywhere."

In the midst of his brief report, his phone buzzed. He answered quickly, his tone sharp and efficient. "Agent Esposito here. Yes, I understand. And you're certain? Thank you."

He ended the call, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "So, we’ve got confirmation of a sister living in Los Angeles. Looks to be the closest relative. It's not much, but it's a start."

"Good. Maybe she can shed some light on Adriana's recent activities, any enemies she might have made. We’ll reach out after having a look in Adriana’s apartment."

“No need. I’ve got someone at the bureau reaching out to her and will have her call me. Soon, I hope.”

They pulled up to a nondescript apartment building, its beige exterior weathered by years of Seattle rain. It wasn’t as luxurious as Dr. Keller’s apartment building, but it was a far cry from the slums. Addison killed the engine, her fingers instinctively checking for the weight of her service weapon at her hip. Old habits died hard.

They made their way inside and to the third floor, the worn carpet muffling their footsteps. Addison fished out the key she'd been given by the paramedics, turning it over in her hand. It felt like an invasion, entering someone's private space like this. But if it led to answers to preventing another victim, it would be worth it.

As she slid the key into the lock, Javier's phone rang again. He looked at it and said, “Not a local call…maybe LA?” He stepped away to answer it, his voice low and urgent.

The door swung open with a soft creak, revealing a small but tastefully decorated living room. Addison's trained eye swept over the space, cataloging details. Everything was neat, organized. No signs of a struggle or forced entry.

Behind her, Javier's voice rose slightly. "You're certain about that? No, no, that's extremely helpful. Thank you."

Addison turned, catching the mix of surprise and interest on her partner's face. "What is it?"

Javier pocketed his phone, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Well, it looks like our potential victim has been keeping some interesting company. According to her sister, Adriana Garcia isn't just your average Seattle resident. She's a runway model, fresh off a trip to Europe."

Addison's eyebrows shot up. "A model? That certainly adds a new dimension to things. Any chance the sister knew who Adriana might have been hanging out with on that trip?"

"She didn't have specifics, but mentioned Adriana had been excited about some new connections she'd made. High-profile stuff, apparently."

Addison nodded slowly, her mind already racing ahead. "High-profile could mean a lot of things. Including the kind of people who might have access to some pretty specialized chemicals if she was deeply involved with companies creating makeup, moisturizers, things like that."

Addison stepped into the living room, scanning the small but meticulously decorated space. The apartment screamed "fashion model" in every detail, from the sleek, minimalist furniture to the carefully curated art pieces adorning the walls. It was also slightly messy, but not overly so. A faint smell of perfume hung in the air.

As she and Javier looked the place over, Addison's gaze landed on a collection of framed photographs. Each one featured Adriana Garcia, looking impossibly gorgeous, surrounded by equally stunning women. The images seemed to pulse with an energy that made Addison feel simultaneously intrigued and slightly inadequate.

Addison set the photo down and moved towards the bedroom, her forensic instincts kicking into high gear. The room was a stark contrast to the living area – clothes were strewn about, and an open suitcase lay on the unmade bed. 

"Recent trip, indeed," Addison murmured, careful not to disturb anything as she surveyed the scene. 

Her attention was drawn to a series of photos on the dresser. Unlike the glamour shots in the living room, these captured Adriana in various high-end dresses, striking poses on stages and runways. One image, in particular, caught Addison's eye – Adriana in a shimmering gold gown, arm-in-arm with a distinguished older man.

Turning away from the dresser, Addison's gaze fell on the partially open bathroom door. She pushed it open, revealing a spacious, marble-tiled sanctuary. Two prescription bottles sat prominently on the counter, their presence a jarring reminder of the case at hand. She wondered if they were just prescriptions Adriana had packed and she’d not yet put them away in their proper places, just tossing them onto the sink.

"What've you found there?" Javier asked as he stepped into the room behind her.

Addison picked up the bottles, examining the labels closely. "Looks like our fashion-forward friend here might have had some trouble sleeping. These are pretty strong sedatives."

She held them out to Javier, her voice lowering. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't these similar to what we found in Dr. Keller's apartment?"

Javier's eyes widened as he took the bottles. "Looks like it.”

Addison popped the cap off one of the bottles, peering inside. The small white pills looked innocuous enough. Also, they weren’t made from gel caps, which, as far as she was concerned, meant they weren’t what she and Javier were looking for.

As she frowned at the pills, her phone rang. She fished it out of her pocket as she gave the second bottle a look. It was Cipro, a basic anti-bacterial med for stomach issues. She could see through the semi-clear orange plastic that they, too, were basic pills and not gel caps.

She answered the call without checking the number. "This is Agent Shine," she answered, her voice crisp and professional.

"Agent Shine, this is Dr. Scully from Seattle General," came a slightly breathless voice. "We met earlier?”

“Yes, of course. Have you got an update?”

“I do. I've got those lab results you were waiting on. The substance found in Ms. Garcia's capsule..."

Wow, that was quick, Addison thought.

Addison's grip tightened on the phone. "Go on," she urged, catching Javier's eye. He moved closer, clearly picking up on the tension in her posture.

"We found traces of white phosphorous and thermaynide," Scully continued. "It's... well, it's unprecedented. I've never seen anything like it. And I can’t imagine any reason someone would want to ingest these…"

Addison's heart hammered against her ribs. "You're certain about that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Absolutely," Scully confirmed. "We ran the tests twice to be sure. But I can't make sense of it. The combination is highly unstable, potentially explosive under the right conditions. Why anyone would ingest such a thing..."

Addison's mind whirled, pieces of the puzzle shifting into new configurations. "Thank you, Dr. Scully.”

She ended the call, turning to face Javier. His eyes were questioning, concern etched across his features.

"Javi," she began, her voice low and urgent. "We've got a serious problem on our hands."

“Share with the class, please.”

"The capsule Adriana coughed up? It not only contained white phosphorus, but thermaynide, too." she explained, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "Two highly reactive compounds that have no business being inside a human body."

Javier looked slightly taken aback. "Okay, Doc. Break it down for me. What are we dealing with here?"

Addison ran a hand through her hair, her mind racing through chemical reactions and potential outcomes. "Think of it like this: separately, they're dangerous. Together? It's like a miniature flash-bang grenade. You know those fireworks that explode with a bright light and loud noise?"

Javier nodded, his eyes widening as understanding dawned.

"Now imagine that reaction happening inside someone's stomach," Addison continued, her voice grim. "With all the acid and enzymes... it could trigger a rapid, intense combustion. The kind we've been seeing in our victims."

"Jesus," Javier muttered, rubbing his jaw. "That’s messed up.”

Addison nodded, a chill running down her spine. "Exactly. And the abundance of sunflower oil coating? It's likely there not just to help the pill go down, but it could serve as an extra layer of protection along the capsule to delay the reaction.”

She glanced around the bathroom, suddenly hyper-aware of their surroundings. The pristine tiles and neatly arranged toiletries seemed to mock the gruesome reality they were uncovering. Adrian Garcia had swallowed a pill that had been meant to burn her alive from the inside out—to cause her to create a human flash-bang of heat and fire.

But she’d puked it up. And the only thing Addison could assume was that she must have been allergic to sunflower oil. Until they could actually speak to Adriana, it was an assumption they’d have to rely on.

"We need to move fast," Addison said, her mind already racing ahead to their next steps. "This isn't some off-the-shelf poison. Whoever's behind this has serious chemistry knowledge and access to restricted materials. And he’s clearly out of his damn mind.”

“Okay, but where do we move fast to?” Javier asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe back to the hospital?” Javier suggested. “We could work from the mobile database and wait for Adriana to come around…be there when she comes to.”

Addison wasn’t wild about the idea, but she knew it made sense. “Yeah, that works. Let’s go.”

They hurried out of Adriana Garcia’s bathroom, now with the answers they’d been looking for…but still missing the most important one of all: who was behind these sadistic murders, and who would he strike next?

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The automatic doors hissed open as Addison and Javier stepped into the hospital's emergency entrance, bringing with them a gust of cool, damp air. A fine mist of rain clung to Addison's dark hair and jacket, tiny droplets glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. The clock on the wall read 1:25 AM, its red digital numbers a stark reminder of the late hour.

Addison suppressed a yawn as they approached the receptionist, the same woman from earlier with tired eyes and frizzy hair pulled back in a messy bun. The smell of antiseptic and stale coffee hung in the air, mingling with the underlying scent of sickness and desperation that seemed to permeate all hospitals.

"Back again?" the receptionist asked, her voice carrying a hint of sympathy.

Addison nodded, leaning against the high counter. "We need to be here when Adriana Garcia wakes up," she explained, her voice low and slightly hoarse from fatigue. "But we also need somewhere to work while we wait. Is there any chance you have a space we could use?"

The receptionist's fingers clacked against her keyboard as she checked something on her computer. "Actually, we do have small conference rooms on the second floor for exactly this kind of situation," she said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a key card. "Here you go. Second floor, take a right out of the elevator, you can't miss them."

"Thanks," Addison said, accepting the card. "You're a lifesaver."

As they turned towards the stairs, Javier nudged Addison's shoulder. "Elevators are right there, you know," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Addison shook her head. "After sitting in the car for so long, I need to move. Besides, it's only one flight…you wuss."

They climbed the stairs in companionable silence, their footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. Addison's mind was already racing, piecing together the fragments of information they'd gathered so far. The capsules, the seemingly unrelated victims, the elusive killer who left no trace...

On the second floor, they found the conference rooms easily enough. Addison swiped the key card, and the lock clicked open. She flicked on the lights, revealing a small, sterile room with a long table and several chairs.

"Home sweet home," Javier quipped, dropping into one of the chairs with a weary sigh.

Addison set her bag on the table and began unpacking her laptop. "It's not exactly cozy, but it'll do," she said, her eyes taking in the mostly featureless room. "At least we have somewhere to spread out and think."

As she booted up her computer, Addison felt the familiar surge of determination that always came with a challenging case—especially when that case had dumped them into the pools of research. Sometimes, it made her feel like they were very far behind. 

"Okay,” Javier said. “Where do you want to start?"

Addison's fingers hovered over the keyboard. "Let's start with the basics. Criminal records, known associates, anything that might link these women together beyond the cosmetics industry."

As she began typing, Addison felt a mix of excitement and dread. With this case every step forward, seemed to raise the stakes. Somewhere out there, a killer was watching, waiting, perhaps already selecting their next victim. And here they were, holed up in a hospital conference room, staring at screens.

Javier pushed himself up from the chair, stretching his arms overhead. "You know, before I get too involved, I'll check in with the docs, see if there's any update on Adriana. And I'll grab us some coffee while I'm at it. God knows we need it."

Addison looked up from her laptop, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "You really do know the way to my heart, Agent Esposito.”

Javier shot her a grin as he headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Any requests for the coffee?"

"Yeah, make mine an IV drip," Addison quipped, already immersed in her search.

As the door clicked shut behind Javier, Addison's fingers flew over the keyboard. The FBI database loaded, its familiar interface a small comfort in the unfamiliar hospital room. Addison input the victims' names, her mind racing through possibilities as she waited for the results.

"Come on, give me something," she muttered, drumming her fingers on the table.

As she waited, her brain shifted to Fearmonger. She had no idea why. It just seemed to happen sometimes. Even now, after Loomis had removed her from the case, her brain seemed to want to remind her that there was an active case out there that no one could solve…a killer who left no prints, no trace, and seemed to be literally scaring people to death.

She hated to be removed from the case, but she knew the reasons Loomis had given her were good ones. She wondered how hard it would be to get updates. She wondered how many agents were currently working through the horror and frustration of the case.

Nope, she told herself. No time for that distraction…

The search results populated her screen. Addison leaned in, her eyes darting over the information. Dr. Vanessa Keller, clean as a whistle. Adriana Garcia, not so much as a parking ticket. But Lily Zhao...

"Well, well, Miss Social Media Influencer," Addison murmured, clicking on Lily's file. "Looks like you had a wild phase."

A single arrest report stared back at her: possession of cocaine, age twenty Addison frowned, chewing her lower lip. It wasn't much, but it was something. She filed it away to memory as she leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and visualizing the victims. Keller, the celebrity plastic surgeon. Zhao, the viral influencer. Garcia, the model. All beautiful, all successful, all linked to the world of cosmetics and beauty.

She remembered the photos in Adriana's apartment - glossy magazine covers, runway shots, all showcasing the model's flawless makeup. The same world that Keller catered to with her surgical skills that Zhao promoted with her carefully curated online presence.

"What's the connection?" Addison whispered to herself, opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling. "What made you choose them?”

The questions swirled in her mind, pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit together. She knew they were missing something crucial, some vital link that would make everything click into place. And with every passing minute, the clock ticked down to the killer's next move.

A model…a plastic surgeon…a beauty influencer…

Taking a long shot, she pulled up her web browser and typed "makeup ingredients" into the search bar. When the results popped up, she started clicking through various cosmetic company websites. The lists of ingredients blurred together, a jumble of chemical names and percentages. 

She paused, her cursor hovering over a link titled "Natural Cosmetics: What's Really in Your Makeup?" Curiosity piqued, she clicked.

As she scrolled, a familiar term caught her eye. Sunflower oil. Her heart rate quickened.

"No way," Addison breathed, leaning closer to the screen. "It can't be that simple."

She read further, her excitement growing. Sunflower oil, listed as an emollient, appeared in product after product. Particularly in natural and organic cosmetics.

The door opened in the midst of her discovery. Javier walked in, balancing two steaming cups of coffee. The rich aroma filled the room instantly.

"You look like the cat that ate the canary," he said, setting a cup in front of her. "What'd you find?"

Addison grabbed the coffee, drinking from it right away. “This is really good,” she said.

He smirked, settling into the chair across from her. “I may have charmed a few nurses and got the good stuff from the nurse’s station.”

"Remind me to thank them later. But listen, I think I've got something."

Javier gazed at her intently, his eyes sharp. "I'm all ears."

"So, remember the sunflower oil on the capsules?" Addison began, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Well, it turns out it's used in cosmetics too, especially in natural products."

Javier's nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, but what does that mean for us?"

Addison set her coffee down, her hands gesturing as she spoke. "It means our killer may have a history with cosmetics and chemistry. Think about it - they'd need to know how to manipulate these ingredients, how to make them deadly…how to use them together in such a diabolical way."

She paused, sipping from her coffee again before going on. "And it fits with our victims. A plastic surgeon, an influencer, a model - they're all connected to the beauty industry…even if only by association."

Javier nodded slowly, processing the information. "So we're looking for someone with a grudge against the cosmetics world?"

"Maybe," Addison replied, her excitement tempered by the weight of what they were dealing with. "But whoever it is, they're scary smart. 

Javier rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing in thought. "There would have to be chemists working for these beauty product companies, right? People who know their way around a lab and can make the products?"

Addison nodded, her fingers drumming on the conference table. "Exactly. And that's our best lead right now." She then dropped her voice down low, as if sharing a secret. "So if we can find someone who fits that description and link them to all three women... that might very well be our killer."

She paused, her gaze unfocusing as she pieced it together. "But it's more than just technical know-how,” she continued. “This person would need a personal connection, someone who could get close enough to the victims to know their routines, habits, even the medicines they were taking."

Addison thought through the possibilities. A disgruntled employee? A spurned lover with a chemistry degree? The potential suspects seemed endless, but at least they had a direction now.

Javier's voice cut through her thoughts. "And what about the ingredients? The phosphorus and the other one... the therma-whats-it? Can’t we look into places that sell it? People who have recently purchased some?"

A small chuckle escaped Addison's lips, despite the gravity of the situation. "It'sthermaynide," she corrected, a hint of her usual academic precision creeping in. "And I'm pretty sure that'll be a dead end. Both are surprisingly easy to purchase online. We'd be running around in circles trying to find our killer that way."

She took another sip of coffee, noting that the clock on the wall showed 2:37 AM, and fatigue was starting to creep in. But Addison knew she couldn't rest, not when they were making strides.

"So where do we go from here?" Javier asked, mirroring her determination.

Addison stood up, stretching her back. "We look for someone with a background in chemistry or cosmetics," she said. "Someone who would have a reason to hold a grudge against cosmetic companies and the people who work for them or help to market them... like Lily Zhao."

Javier nodded, sitting up straighter. "Makes sense. A disgruntled ex-employee, maybe?"

"Could be," Addison agreed. "Or someone who suffered adverse effects from a product. Either way, we're looking for someone with the knowledge to create these deadly capsules and the motivation to use them."

She walked back to the table, leaning over Javier's shoulder as he opened his laptop. The blue light illuminated their tired faces as they prepared for another deep dive into the digital realm.

"Start with cosmetic companies in the area," Addison instructed. "Look for any lawsuits, public scandals, or mass layoffs in the past few years. I'll check the FDA database for any major product recalls or safety concerns."

As they worked, Addison thought about Lily Zhao's perfectly curated social media presence. Behind that online fame, what sort of enemies had she made?

And what sort of enemy would that these kinds of drastic measures just to take a life. Or, Addison wondered, is he trying to prove a point?

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The steering wheel was slick beneath his hands as he guided the car through the pre-dawn darkness. His palms were sweating. His heartbeat was erratic and irregular. The passing streetlights cast an eerie glow on the empty roads, their orange hue reflecting off the wet asphalt as a slight drizzle of rain came down. He flexed his fingers, feeling the tension in his knuckles. Just one more, he thought. One more, and it'll all be over.

For now, anyway. There could be more later. He just wasn’t sure. For now, he had to focus on the one he knew for certain deserved to meet their end.

In his mind, he was cataloging the women who still needed to pay. The list was long, filled with names of those who perpetuated impossible beauty standards, who profited from others' insecurities. But for now, he had to focus. One woman stood out from the rest - his final target for the foreseeable future. She would be the toughest yet, but she’d also leave the biggest mark.

He reached into his jacket pocket as he came to a stoplight, fingering the small pill bottle. The contents rattled softly, a sound that usually brought him comfort. This time, it only heightened his anxiety.

Images flashed through his mind - the woman's face plastered across billboards, her voice echoing from TV screens. She was smart, influential. Famous. Getting close to her would be a challenge, let alone convincing her to take the pill. He may have to resort to some extreme measures to take her down.

But he was ready and willing to do whatever it took.

As the first hints of dawn began to color the sky, a grin spread across his face. He remembered having similar doubts about Adriana Garcia. The supermodel had seemed an impossible target at first - always surrounded by at least two or three eager fans or photographers. He'd worried he'd have to resort to violence, maybe even kidnapping.

But then came the airport, the one speck on her schedule he felt he could take advantage of. His grin widened as he recalled how smoothly it had all played out.

"Excuse me, aren't you Adriana Garcia?" he'd asked, feigning surprise as he'd accidentally bumped into her in front of the Starbucks near her gate.

Her eyes had widened, a mix of wariness and practiced charm. "I know you, right?”

He’d smiled at her and nodded. “Yes. I’m flattered that you remembered. You came by our offices a few weeks ago, checking in on the beauty line.”

“That’s right!” she’d said. He could see her trying to come up with his name and failing. “So…are you coming or going?”

“Ah, coming back home. Just got back from a conference in Sydney. For the Cressway line of products." This had, of course, been a lie.

“Oh, I hear really good things about them! Their eyeliner in particular.”

The conversation had flowed naturally from there. He'd played his part perfectly as they ordered their coffees. - the friendly, slightly star-struck industry professional. And then it came come to the end, when she’d needed to leave to grab a cab.

"Well, safe travels," he said. "Hopefully, you can avoid the jet lag. I feel like I read something in Vogue a few months ago…how that’s the one thing you hate about your job.”

She seemed impressed—maybe a little freaked out that he knew this detail about her. But she sidestepped it and remained cute…professional.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she said. “I loathe it. And I’m apparently highly susceptible to it, if my trip to Switzerland last month is anything to judge by.”

It had been a perfect opening, and she'd fallen for it like a gullible idiot. When he'd casually mentioned his jet lag remedy, she had been putty in his hands. He'd told her his doctor had prescribed it to him, and though it wasn't perfect by any means, it would help her sleep and knock a day or so off of the jet lag.

She’d taken the pill without question, chasing it down with a bottled water.

Now, as he navigated the quiet streets, he chuckled to himself. It had been almost too easy. No violence necessary, no kidnapping required. Just a few well-placed words, a charming smile, and she'd taken the pill without a second thought.

But he knew better than to expect such luck again. This final target would require more finesse, more determination. He might have to get his hands dirty this time. He may even have to put his life at risk.

The thought should have troubled him, but instead, it sent a thrill of excitement through his body. He was prepared for anything. After all, it was all for a greater purpose. These women needed to face justice for the pain they caused.

After two more stoplights, he pulled his car into a strip mall parking lot, raindrops pattering against the windshield. He killed the engine, his eyes fixating on the Channel 2 News building looming to his right, its sign and a few windows glowing in the early morning darkness. 

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his mind drifting to Joanna. Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her research. 

He closed his eyes, letting the sound of rain wash over him. In his mind's eye, he saw Joanna hunched over her desk, poring over fashion magazines, her eyes narrowing with discontent. His one true love…the woman who had agreed to marry him, often showing off the engagement ring to any and everyone who would look.

His fiancé…whom had often been far too hard on herself when it came to her appearance. Which, to him, made no sense. She’d always been breathtaking.

"Honey, you don't need to change anything," he'd told her countless times. "You're perfect as you are. Beyond perfect, maybe."

But his words had fallen on deaf ears. The poison of impossible beauty standards had already seeped too deep. She’d gotten too wrapped up in online tutorials and videos, of influencers like Lily Zhao who were always telling women there was always room to improve…while, at the same time, tearing so many other women and their beauty regimens down.

"I just want to look like her," Joanna had said as she held up a glossy magazine one night as they’d sat around his apartment. Adriana Garcia's flawless face stared back at him from the cover.

He clenched his fists, recalling how Joanna's eyes had sparkled with admiration on the day Adriana had visited their company for the first time a little over two years ago. "She's so perfect," Joanna had whispered at the end of the day, heading through the lobby. Her voice had been tinged with envy and awe.

"Jo, you don't need—" he'd started, but she cut him off.

"I've made an appointment with Dr. Keller," Joanna interrupted, her tone resolute. "She's the best in the business, you know…”

His mind wandered to the consultation Joanna had described. How Dr. Keller had nodded approvingly at the photos of Adriana, promising Joanna she could sculpt her into that image of perfection.

He gritted his teeth, anger bubbling up inside him. Joanna had never made it to that appointment, but she’d been excited about it. Keller had put ideas in her head, ideas of how Joanna could improve her already perfect face.

The rain continued to patter the windshield. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on happier times with Joanna, but the darkness of what had happened to her kept creeping in.

He glanced at his watch, the hands ticking steadily towards the inevitable confrontation. Two hours. Just two hours until Vivian Lane would stroll into the news building, her perfectly coiffed hair and tailored suit a walking billboard for the industry that had stolen everything from him. he wasn’t sure why she was coming; he’d just seen it on the schedule he’d hacked into a few weeks prior. Probably to talk about her latest shitty movie. She’d been in some good ones at the start of her career but had gone downhill from there.

So far downhill that she was now also working as a spokeswoman for a cosmetics line. A cosmetics line that, in her final days, Joanna had become enamored with, mainly because of Vivian’s involvement.

He could almost see her now, that practiced smile plastered across her face as she prepared to feed more lies to the masses.

But doubt gnawed at him. Vivian was different from the others. She may even have security with her. He wasn’t sure. But that was fine. His gaze drifted to the glove compartment. The weight of the gun inside seemed to pull at him, a gravitational force of last resort.

He closed his eyes, picturing Joanna's face. Not as she was at the end - hollow-cheeked and desperate - but as she had been before. Vibrant. Alive. Beautiful.

Even when he’d found her on that last day, unresponsive in bed with an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside her, she’d been beautiful. Even in death, she’d been more beautiful than the women who had, in so many ways, pushed her to her suicide.

His resolve hardened. Whatever it took, Vivian Lane would die. He’d see to it. And just maybe the entire poisonous industry he’d worked within for so long would burn, just like his victims.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

The overhead fluorescent lights of the hospital conference room cast an eerie glow on her face as she scrolled through countless articles on the cosmetics industry. They were gentler and kinder than the ones back at the field office, but they still made her feel as if she was being thoroughly examined by someone from up above.

She was researching still—reading and typing and analyzing—but with a new determination that was fueled by a mix of caffeine and anxiety.

"There has to be something here," she muttered, rubbing her temples. The sterile smell of disinfectant mingled with the stale coffee on the table beside her. Javier sat across from her, his own eyes glued to his screen. Honestly, they’d not been at it for all that long, but while waiting for a patient to come to and with the uncertainty of who their killer was or where they might be, every passing minute felt like an hour.

Suddenly, a headline caught Addison's attention. It came pretty much out of nowhere, buried in other banal headlines. Her breath hitched as she clicked on the link, scanning the article with growing excitement. This was it - the breakthrough they'd been waiting for. And it had come without much excitement…as if it had almost snuck up on them.

She read through the article and then clicked on another article at the end in the Readers Also Clicked On section.

When she was certain she wasn’t overreacting, she looked across the table.

"Javi, take a look at this," she said, her voice tight with anticipation. She spun her laptop around as Javier stood and leaned over her shoulder.

"What've you got?" he asked.

Addison pointed to the screen. "Two years ago, a woman named Joanna Gregory committed suicide. She worked in research and development at Aglow Cosmetics. She took her life by taking an estimated twenty-five sleeping pills."

Javier whistled low. 

"Yeah, and get this - her death made headlines because people speculated it was linked to pressure from the beauty industry. That she was pushed to make herself more presentable…prettier."

As she summarized it all, Addison considered all of the implications. Could this be the connection they'd been searching for? A knot formed in her stomach as she considered the possibilities.

"There's more," she continued, scrolling down. "One of these articles mentions Dr. Vanessa Keller. Apparently, she was a big fan of Aglow's products."

Javier's eyes widened. "Now that's interesting…”

Addison nodded, her heart pounding. "Oh, it gets so much better.” She leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “Turns out, her husband also worked with Aglow… as a chemist and engineer. His name is Ethan Gregory. After his fiancé’s suicide, he made some pretty intense statements. Says here, 'Joanna was a visionary in our field. Her work on eco-friendly cosmetics was revolutionary. The industry lost a brilliant mind.'"

Addison leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. The pieces were starting to fit together, but the picture they formed was troubling.

"There's more," she continued. "Gregory didn't stop at praising his wife. He went after some of the same industry he was working in. He railed against social media culture, called it toxic for women's self-image. And get this…he specifically called out Lily Zhao's YouTube channel. Said women like Lily were placing too much pressure on women…to the point of bullying them. And though he doesn’t come out and name Vanessa Keller, he also pointed out that plastic surgeons are also contributing to the issues."

Javier whistled yet again "Well, I'd say that makes Ethan Gregory a suspect. We can link this grieving chemist to both Lily and Vanessa Keller."

He was already rushing back to his laptop, fingers flying over the keys. Addison watched him, her mind racing through possibilities. Could grief have driven Gregory to murder? Or was there something deeper, more sinister at play?

“Looking him up on the database?” Addison asked.

“Yeah.”

Addison nodded and said, “What if Gregory blamed the industry for his wife's death? What if he saw Keller and Zhao as symbols of everything he thought was wrong?"

Javier nodded, not looking up from his screen. "Motive and opportunity. It's a solid theory. We don’t know how or even if Adriana Garcia fits into it, but…"

Addison stood up, stretching her stiff muscles. She walked to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The city beyond was a blur of gray and neon, just an hour or so away from another dreary morning.

"We need to talk to him," she said, turning back to Javier. "See how he reacts when we bring up Keller and Zhao."

Javier nodded, already reaching for his jacket. "Let's go pay Dr. Gregory a visit."

Javier's fingers stopped their frantic dance across the keyboard. He looked up at Addison, his eyes glinting with a mixture of excitement and caution. "Got him. Ethan Gregory, 1542 Hawthorne Avenue."

Addison glanced at her watch, the fluorescent hospital lights reflecting off its face. 5:07 AM. She chewed her lower lip, weighing their options. "It's early, but this is our first real lead. I’m tempted to not give a damn about the time."

Javier raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want to risk pissing off a potential suspect at this hour?"

"Honestly?" Addison ran a hand through her tangled hair. "I'm past caring about niceties. If Gregory's our guy, I'd rather catch him off guard. And even if he’s not, maybe he can provide some answers."

She looked towards the door, thinking of Adriana Garcia lying unconscious just a few floors away. The model's pale face flashed in her mind, a stark reminder of what was at stake.

"I'll let the nurses know we're stepping out,” Addison said. “You want to bring the car around to the front?”

“Sure thing.”

And just like that, they were on the move again. But this time, Addison rested a bit easier in the fact that they actually felt like they were moving towards something promising.

***

The rain-slicked streets reflected the gloomy gray sky as Addison and Javier pulled up to 1542 Hawthorne Avenue. The digital clock on the car’s dashboard read 5:18 PM. Addison peered through the droplets on the windshield, taking in the quaint two-story house before them. It was a classic Craftsman style, with a covered porch and neatly trimmed hedges lining the walkway. The pale yellow exterior paint had seen better days, but overall it exuded a cozy, lived-in charm that seemed at odds with their suspicions about its owner.

"Looks like your average family home," Javier remarked, his eyes scanning the quiet suburban street. "Hard to imagine our guy brewing up death in a place like this."

Addison nodded absently, her gaze fixed on the darkened windows. "Appearances can be deceiving. Example: Ted Bundy. All-American good looks, charming personality..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Javier said with a grimace. "Let's go see if anyone's home."

They made their way up the damp concrete path, shoes squelching slightly. When they approached the front door, Addison raised her hand to knock, hesitating for a split second before rapping sharply on the wood.

Silence. Which was to be expected, considering the hour. A few seconds later, Javier tried the doorbell, its muffled chime echoing inside the house. They waited a while, possibly for the cranky muttering of Gregory as he approached the door. But again, there was nothing.

Addison bit her lip, weighing their options. The evidence linking Ethan Gregory to the murders was circumstantial at best, but her instincts were screaming that they were on the right track. He was directly linked to one victim, potentially linked to a second. Could they afford to wait for a warrant?

"We could pick the lock," she suggested, her voice low. "Take a quick look around."

Javier's eyebrows shot up. "Without a warrant? That's a hell of a risk, Addison. If we're wrong, it could blow the whole case."

"I know, but..." Addison trailed off, frustration evident in her voice. "We're so close, Javi. I can feel it. What if he's in there right now, destroying evidence?"

Her partner ran a hand through his hair, conflict clear on his face. "Look, I agree he's a solid suspect. But breaking in? That's not just bending the rules, that's snapping them in half."

Addison weighed the potential consequences against the urgency of the situation. Images of the victims flashed through her mind – charred bodies, melted flesh. Specifically, Lily Zhaos’s tissue and skin fused to the frame of her chair. Who would be next to suffer such a fate?

"We don't have to go far," she pressed. "Just a quick sweep to see if there's anything obvious. If we find probable cause, we call for backup and do it by the book. And if we find nothing, we lock back up and move on.”

Javier let out a long sigh. "You're gonna be the death of my career, you know that?" He glanced around the quiet neighborhood. "Fine. But we're in and out, five minutes tops. And if anyone asks, this conversation never happened."

Addison nodded, relief and determination washing over her. "Agreed. I'll grab the lock-pick set from the car."

As she jogged back to their vehicle, Addison knew that they were about to cross a line. But with lives potentially hanging in the balance, they had no choice. Sometimes, to catch a monster, you had to venture into the shadows yourself.

She took the set back to the door. As she went to work Javier stood behind her blocking her from view of anyone who might pass by on the street or sidewalk.

Addison's fingers trembled slightly as she worked the lock-pick set, her breath fogging in the cool, damp air. The rain had tapered off to a fine mist, clinging to her hair and jacket. She could feel Javier's eyes darting nervously up and down the street.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" he muttered.

She shot him a look. "I may be a nerd, but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. Now shush and let me concentrate."

After a tense minute, there was a satisfying click. Addison's heart raced as she slowly turned the knob and eased the door open. They slipped inside, closing the door softly behind them.

The interior was dim, illuminated only by the gray light filtering through the windows. Addison blinked, letting her eyes adjust. The entryway opened into a spacious living room, tastefully decorated but with a slight air of neglect. A thin layer of dust coated the coffee table.

They wasted no time, moving further into the house. The kitchen was immaculate, appliances gleaming. No dirty dishes in the sink, no half-empty takeout containers. It felt more like a showroom than a lived-in space. The only thing remotely out of place was a single butter knife maying haphazardly on the edge of the sink.

They made their way down a hallway, checking a spotless bathroom. Addison's unease grew with each eerily tidy room. As they approached a closed door at the end of the hall, she hesitated before reaching out and turning the knob. When she pushed the door open, it was almost like stepping into a shrine.

It was a small office space. On the walls, there were several framed photos of the same smiling woman – Joanna Gregory. Addison recognized her from the articles she’d read online. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and small mementos. 

A half-finished book sat on the desk, a bookmark still in place. Beside it was a stack of magazines—of the entertainment and fashion variety. The desk also contained a few Polaroids of Joanna, not yet framed. And maybe never to be framed at all.

"Jesus," Javier breathed. "This is..."

"Heartbreaking," Addison finished. She moved closer to examine the photos, studying Joanna's face. "She looks so happy here…” 

“I’ll keep looking,” Javier whispered as he slowly moved out of the room.

Addison's fingers trailed over the stack of glossy magazines, scanning the images that passed by her eyes. Something about them felt off, out of place in this room of memories. She flipped one open, then another, her breath catching as she saw the dog-eared pages.

"Oh, shit," she muttered.

The first dog-eared page showed a gorgeous, thin woman walking down. runway. Her face was perfectly angled and sultry, her lips the very definition of sexy. And while Addison had never seen this woman before, the name given to her in the fine print along the bottom of the page was very familiar.

It was Adriana Garcia. The model's dark eyes seemed to mock her from the page. Addison's stomach churned as the pieces clicked into place.

She swallowed hard. "Javi, you might want to come see this," she called out, her voice tight.

Silence stretched for a moment. Then Javier's voice, oddly strained, came from elsewhere in the house. "Um... you first. Seriously, Addison... hurry up and get out here."

Something in his tone sent a chill down her spine. Addison snatched up two of the magazines and hurried out, her heart pounding. The hallway seemed longer, darker than before. Where was he?

"Javi?" she called again, scanning the area.

A door stood ajar further down, one they hadn't checked earlier. Addison approached cautiously, magazines clutched to her side. She peered into the opened doorway, finding a set of stairs leading down into shadows. Halfway down stood Javier, his posture tense as he stared at something below. A soft light glowed somewhere ahead of him.

"What did you find?" Addison asked, taking a tentative step onto the stairs.

Javier glanced back, his face grim. "You're gonna want to see this for yourself.”

Addison descended, the wood creaking beneath her feet. With each step, a sense of dread grew, coiling in her gut. 

Addison followed him down the remaining steps, the air growing cooler and mustier with each foot of descent. As they reached the bottom, her eyes widened, taking in the scene before her.

The basement was a makeshift laboratory, but far from amateur. Sleek metal tables lined the walls, laden with an array of scientific equipment that would make her old med school professors take pause. Bunsen burners, centrifuges, microscopes, and racks of test tubes stood in meticulous order. The sharp scent of chemicals stung her nostrils.

"My God," Addison breathed, her mind reeling as she took it all in. "Some of this is professional-grade stuff."

Javier nodded grimly as he stepped deeper into the room, looking around.

Addison moved further into the room, her trained eye cataloging details. The space was clean but had the smell and feel of having been recently used. She looked specifically for any containers or tubes that might contain either of the deadly ingredients their killer was using, but saw nothing of the sort. 

However, as she reached the back of the room and turned to take the space in again, she saw something on the floor to her right, against the wall. She walked to it and picked it up.

It was half of a pill capsule. it was slightly yellow in color and had no markings on it.

"This is where he's been creating them," she said, her voice tight. "The capsules, the combustibles...and then there’s this,” he said.

She showed him the magazines, flipping to the pages that had been marked—the pages that showed a few different women, but one of which featured the picture of Adriana Garcia.

Javier ran a hand through his hair, his expression grim. "We've got him, Shine. Ethan Gregory is our guy."

Addison nodded, a mix of triumph and horror churning in her gut. They'd found their killer, but the scale of his operation was staggering. How many more victims could there have been?

"I'll call it into Loomis," Javier said, pulling out his phone. "We've finally got a name for our killer."

Addison nodded. Yes…they had a name and motive. Now, the only thing left to do was to find him and bring him in.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Addison felt an electric surge of promise as she and Javier slipped out of Ethan Gregory's house, the cool pre-dawn air hitting her flushed face. They'd crossed a line, broken into a suspect's home without a warrant. But the potential breakthrough was worth the risk. She knew Loomis would understand that…after a rather long admonishment, Addison was sure.

With their new breakthrough and, as far as they were concerned, the identity of their killer, they hurried to the car. Neither of them saw the sense in staying inside of a house they technically weren’t supposed to be in while working on their next steps.

Addison opened the passenger side door and practically fell into the seat, her thoughts reeling. Beside her, ever the dutiful one, Javier immediately started making calls, his voice low and urgent as he started working to put out an APB on Ethan Gregory. Meanwhile, Addison was working on a mental cruise control, grabbing her iPad from the back seat and ready to do yet another deep dive on Ethan Gregory.

But before she even got started, a memory tickled at the back of her mind. Those magazines in his office, the dog-eared pages...one had led her to the picture of Adriana Garcia.

What would the other marked pages reveal?

"Javier," she said suddenly, cutting across his phone conversation. "I think I know how to find his next targets."

He held a finger and then removed the phone from his ear mid-call. "What've you got?"

"Well…Adriana Garcia's picture was marked in that magazine. But there were other’s dog-eared, too.”

Javier's eyes widened. "You think those are his next targets?"

"It fits the profile," Addison nodded, her gut clenching. "A chemist lashing out at cosmetic companies and beauty enthusiasts after his wife's suicide. He's targeting women in the public eye, women who represent the beauty standards that drove his wife to despair. He even mentioned Lily in that article."

Addison's fingers twitched; she knew what she had to do. And when she reached into her coat pocket for the lock-pick set she’d not yet returned to the glove compartment, she allowed herself a guilty grin. Screw protocol. Lives were at stake.

"One sec," she mouthed to Javier as she opened the passenger side door. His eyes widened, but he didn't stop her as she slipped out of the car.

Heart pounding, Addison approached Gregory's front door again. The lock surrendered easily to her deft touch. She ghosted through the house, making a beeline for the office.

The magazines still littered the desk, including the two she’s returned after their initial visit. As she hurried over to them, she was almost sickened by their glossy pages, a kaleidoscope of airbrushed perfection. Addison's hands trembled slightly as she rifled through them, searching for anything out of place.

There. A dog-eared page. She flipped it open, revealing a full-page ad for Aglow Cosmetics. A famous actress was the center of it, her face taking up three-quarters of the page. Addison knew the woman well. Hell, half the world probably did. 

Vivian Lane, once an A-list actress. Her flawless face stared back at Addison, blue eyes piercing even in print. Over the years, she’d become less famous. Which, Addison supposed, was why she’d taken to doing ads and commercials for cosmetics.

Another magazine yielded another marked page. Vivian again, resplendent on the Emmy red carpet from two years ago.

A third dog-ear revealed a different face. Young, sultry, radiating confidence. Bethany Red, pop sensation and chart-topper. She was far more popular than Cloe Storm, and Addison hated her music just as much. If not more…because it was on the radio all the damned time.

Addison mapped it out as best she could. Two high-profile targets, both embodiments of the beauty standards. But the question remained…did Gregory simple hate these standards and wanted them stricken from the world or was he seeking some sort of revenge for his wife?

As she turned to leave, a framed photo on the bookshelf caught her eye. Joanna Gregory, smiling sadly at the camera. Addison's throat tightened. She hurried back to the car, evidence clutched to her chest. Javier's eyebrows shot up as she slid into the passenger seat.

Javier opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to the punch. "We've got two potential targets," Addison cut him off, spreading the magazines on her lap. "Vivian Lane and Bethany Red. Both marked multiple times."

Javier looked puzzled for a second. “You mean the actress and the little pop diva?”

“Yes,” Addison said, showing him the dog-eared pages in the magazines.

“How the hell are we supposed to reach them?"

Addison's lips quirked. "I thought you'd have connections, Mr. Cloe Storm."

He rolled his eyes but nodded. "We can try their agencies, see if we can get through the gatekeepers.. I can contact Cloe’s talent agency and find out if they can help point me in the right direction. Which one do you think is more likely?"

"Vivian," Addison said decisively. "I mean…look at this. Her face is right here, on an old ad for the company both Ethan and Joanna worked for.”

"Right," Javier agreed, already dialing. "Let's just hope we're not too late. And by the way, the APB's out. Local and state are on board.”

“Good. Now…how about you wake up Cloe Storm’s management team to see if they can get us in touch with some talent agencies?”

Javier sighed and once again went back to his phone. As dawn broke over Seattle, Addison stared out the window, willing the pieces to fall into place. They were so close. She just prayed they'd be fast enough to prevent another senseless death.

***

As odd as it seemed, Addison found herself thinking of Jane while Javier did his best to get the number for Vivian Lane’s talent agency. For a while, Jane had been slightly obsessed with a teenage actress. Addison was scared that she could not think of the name of the actress, but she could see her face clearly.

She could also recall Jane talking about how pretty this actress was, how she wished she could be that pretty when she grew up. Addison, as well as their father, had insisted that Jane was perfectly pretty and perfect the way she was. And while Jane was fine to accept this from her family, Addison knew how her sister had felt.

Christ, doesn’t every woman? she thought. How many women have suffered trying to reach an impossible ideal that we set upon ourselves?

She knew it was irrational, but she couldn't help feeling a connection to these potential victims—this well-known actress and the pop star. Maybe it was the ghost of her own sister, forever out of reach, that drove her to save every woman she could. No matter who they were.

She was broken from her reverie when Javier ended the call. He looked to her and said, “Yeah, the guy was half asleep, but he said he can maybe get the number of a second-rate composer than once worked with a director who worked with Vivian.”

“Trying to keep up with that made me very dizzy just now,” Addison said.

“Right now, it’s the best we have.”

Addison looked back to the house and then an idea occurred to her. She flipped the magazine back open, Vivian Lane’s face taking up the entire page for an Aglow ad—her blue eyes, her almost-red hair, the irresistible lips.

“Aglow,” she said. “Ethan and Joanna both worked there. And the offices are here in Seattle, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She tapped at the magazine page in her lap. “Well, this ad is proof that Vivian has worked with Aglow. Maybe she never spoke to anyone there directly, but her agency sure as hell did.”

“Addison, you’re a genius. And, by the way, you’re better looking than any of these women we’ve been talking about.”

"Now is not the time to make me blush," she said. "But thanks all the same."

This time, it was Addison who grabbed her phone. She opened her web browser and ran a search for the contact information to their corporate offices. She knew no one would be at the offices yet, as it was only 5:50. So she waited for the prompt that asked if she needed to speak with someone in the international offices. She listened to the listings and selected London; it would be 1:50 in the afternoon there.

The phone rang twice before it was answered. “Aglow Cosmetics and Enhancements, how may I di—”

"My name is Addison Shine, a special agent with the FBI in the US. I'm out of a field office in Seattle, and my badge number is 22-6726. I need to speak with someone who can get me information about talent contracts."

“Um…you…excuse me?”

“I need to speak to someone who can tell me how to get in touch with Vivian Lane,” Addison said, growing frustrated. “I know she did some advertising for Aglow. It’s of the utmost importance that we find her.”

"I'm sorry, but that sort of information is closely guarded, and I—"

“FBI!” Addison bellowed. “Agent Addison Shine! Out of the Seattle field office. Seattle and my badge number is 22-6726. My director supervisor is Special Agent in Charge Loomis. And I can have her call if you want. This is important!”

She saw Javier raise his eyebrows and smirk at her, nodding in approval of her outburst.

"Hold, please.”

She took pleasure in the little tremor in the voice on the other end. “Sorry about that,” she told Javier.

“Don’t be. It was…well, it was sort of hot.”

"Mind out of the gutter, Esposito. We don’t—”

But the response from the other line interrupted her. “Agent Shine? Is that right?” It was another voice, a deep-toned man this time.

“Yes.”

“And what do you need again?”

She went through the entire spiel again. And when she was done, the man on the other end surprised her with his calm and very helpful answer.

“So you need to get in touch with Ms. Lane or her management, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right. And urgently.”

“Well…it just so happens that I can help you with that directly. You said you’re in Seattle?”

“Yes,” she said, again growing impatient.

“Well, I happen to know that’s exactly where Ms. Lane is as well. She’s scheduled to be on a news program where she’ll be not only promoting a new movie, but also giving a mention to a new skin care line.”

“A news program?” she asked. “Do you know when?”

“I don’t know what time, but I do know that it’s this morning.”

“Thank you!” She looked over to Javier and saw that he was already on his phone.

“I heard you. She’s on a local news program this morning. There are only three to choose from, and I can probably find out which one within a minute or two.”

Addison looked out into the brightening morning. The digital clock now read 5:56. She was pretty sure the local news came on at 6:00. She couldn’t remember.

Her thoughts drifted to Jane again, of her adoration of that young actress. And with an ache in her heart, Addison wondered what Jane looked like now. If she was still alive, how beautiful must her little sister be?

She pushed the thoughts aside, forcing herself to focus on the here and now—the case, Vivian Lane, Ethan Gregory.

There were lives she could still save…and based on what they knew at the moment, they had very little time to get it done.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The first rays of dawn crept over the city skyline, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Ethan Gregory sat motionless in his parked car, eyes fixed on the Channel 2 News building across the street. The drizzle of rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt with a mirror-like shine.

He knew he’d only been here for forty-five minutes or so, but it felt like an eternity. Watching that empty lot, waiting for the washed-up actress to show her face…it felt like a turning point. And if he was being honest with himself, it felt like it might be a harsh turn….something that would potentially bring his best laid plans crashing down.

He’d always known this could end badly…in chaos. But to actually face that possibility was heartbreaking.

A sudden buzzing broke the silence. Ethan's hand darted to his phone, swiping to reveal the notification. His eyes widened as he took in the grainy security camera footage streaming from his living room. He didn't have one of those doorbell cameras because he'd heard too many stories about them being faulty and unreliable. So he'd settled on a single plug-in unit for his living room, tucked away by the TV. He'd purchased it a little over two years ago when he'd started assembling his lab in the basement.

"Shit," he muttered, watching two figures move methodically through his home. They wore plain clothes, but their deliberate movements screamed law enforcement. One paused to examine a framed photo on the mantle while the other rifled through a stack of papers on the kitchen counter. Also…the simple fact that two people just happened to appear in his home while he was in the midst of his…well, his quest…that meant it was surely law enforcement, right? Cops or FBI, one or the other.

Ethan's jaw clenched. How had they found him so quickly? He'd been careful, meticulous in covering his tracks. Yet here they were, invading his sanctuary, violating his privacy.

He watched for a few more moments, a mix of fury and fear churning in his gut. Part of him wanted to race home, to confront these intruders. But no, that would be foolish. He had more important matters to attend to.

Ethan's gaze drifted to the Channel 2 building once more. Vivian Lane would be arriving soon for her early morning interview. His next victim. A face known and adored by many. A face that had one been adored by Joanna.

With trembling hands, he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the small pillbox. The metal was cool against his palm as he pried open the lid. Two identical pills nestled inside, innocuous yet potent. They were a very light orange color, but the hue looked deadly in the gloom of his car.

He stared at them, momentarily awed by just how much power they wielded. And though he would only need one for what he was about to do, he'd brought the other as an insurance policy of sorts. With the way things with Vivian Lane might go down, there were far too many things that could go wrong.

Speaking of going wrong…he wondered if he could somehow tilt the board, as it were. With the authorities on to him, things had changed. Maybe he could…

"No, it won't come to that," he assured himself, snapping the pillbox closed. He was too close to give up now. Joanna deserved her justice.

His late fiancée's face flashed through his mind, fueling his resolve. He would finish what he'd started, no matter the cost. Let the police fumble through his home. By the time they pieced it all together, it would be too late.

The pillbox felt heavy as it sat on his leg, a constant reminder of the extreme measures he was willing to take. He looked back to the pills, thinking…wondering.

"Could I really do it?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the car. 

His mind drifted to Joanna again, her radiant smile forever etched in his memory. The injustice of her death, the system that had failed her, it all came rushing back. Yes, she had taken her own life, so no one could be blamed for her actual death. Ah, but there had been pressures and stress. There had been an entire world pushing her to that action.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. When he opened them again, a steely resolve had settled in his gaze.

A flash of movement caught his eye, pulling him from his brooding. A sleek black Escalade glided into the parking lot across the street, its tinted windows gleaming in the pale light of dawn.

Ethan's heart quickened. He squinted through the murky morning light. The vehicle's windows were dark, deeply tinted. The vehicle was like a specter in the growing shadows of the Channel 2 parking lot.

This had to be Vivian. 

As he watched the Escalade park, Ethan considered the situation as it currently stood. If the authorities were closing in, this might be his last chance to bring justice to Joanna's memory. His final act in a crusade that had consumed him for years. He’d wondered if Vivian might be the last or if he might find others to exact his vengeance on. But now…he became acutely aware that Vivian Lane may very well be the last.

“Then let’s make it count,” he said.

Ethan's fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the glovebox. He popped it open, revealing the Smith and Wesson M&P Shield nestled inside. As he wrapped his hand around the grip, a flood of memories washed over him.

It’s the only gun he’d ever owned, and he’d only fired it on one occasion—at a firing range, just to get accustomed to it. When he and Joanna had gotten engaged and started talking about homes to buy, they’d agreed it was smart to own a gun to protect their home. She’d been nervous at the sight of it but understood the necessity of it.

Yes, even this damned gun reminded him of her—had an attachment to Joanna.

The gun felt heavier than he remembered from that single day at the firing range. He'd been so tense then, Joanna's nervous laughter ringing in his ears as she teased him for his shaky aim.

He placed the gun in his lap, its cold metal a stark contrast to the light weight of the pillbox still resting on his leg. Ethan's gaze flicked between the two, symbols of the choice that lay before him.

Suddenly, he felt wetness on his cheeks. Tears. He hadn't even realized he'd started crying. He wiped them away slowly, not ashamed of them but surprised by his own emotion.

But as he tried to center himself, to focus on the task at hand, Ethan found his eyes drawn back to the pillbox. Those two little capsules, so innocuous yet so final, seemed to mock him.

His fingers twitched toward the box, but something held him back. The gun in his lap felt like it was burning a hole through his jeans.

"But is it what you'd want, Jo?" he asked the empty car, his voice cracking. "To go out with a whimper instead of a bang?"

Ethan's weighed his options. The fear of what lay ahead – prison, shame, failure – clashed with the burning desire to finish what he'd started.

After what felt like an eternity, he let out a long, shuddering breath. "Ah, the hell with it."

Roughly ten seconds passed before Ethan grabbed the gun and threw open the car door. As he stepped out into the cool morning air, his grip on the weapon tightened. And the pill box waited in his jacket pocket. He strode purposefully across the parking lot, his eyes fixed on the Escalade in the distance.

He turned down behind a parked truck at the edge of the lot and watched the Escalade, waiting for the doors to open. Waiting for his final victim to unknowingly step out onto what would be her last stage.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Addison noticed that Javier had switched off the windshield wipers as the slight drizzle that had been falling for the last three hours finally came to a stop. She also noticed that Javier was driving like a manic pro as he maneuvered the sedan through Seattle's slick streets. Addison gripped the armrest; this was perhaps the first time she'd ever felt slightly at risk with Javier behind the wheel. The car lurched around a corner, tires skidding.

"We need to check the security at Channel 2," Addison said, fishing her phone from her pocket. Her fingers trembled as she dialed, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “They may be able to cut this all off...maybe stop it before it even has a chance to begin.”

Javier nodded, jaw clenched as he focused on the road. "Good call.”

It took about two minutes of searching on her phone’s browser, but Addison was able to find the number for the administrative offices for the building. The line rang once, twice. Addison's leg bounced impatiently. Pick up, pick up.

"Channel 2 News, how may I direct your call?"

"This is Special Agent Addison Shine with the FBI. I need to speak with your head of security immediately. It's urgent."

“Um. Yeah. Okay. Shine, you said?”

“Yes.”

A pause. "One moment, please."

Addison pressed the phone tighter to her ear, straining to hear over the roar of the car’s engine. Her mind raced through possible scenarios, each grimmer than the last. If they were too late...

"Ed Waverly, head of security,” a stern voice said from the other end. “How can I help you?"

Addison's words tumbled out in a rush. "Mr. Waverly, this is Special Agent Addison Shine, with the FBI…out of the Seattle field office. We have reason to believe a dangerous suspect may be targeting Vivian Lane. Is she at the station yet?"

"Vivian Lane?" Waverly's voice sharpened. "No, she's not here yet. What's this about a suspect?"

Javier swerved to avoid a stalled car, and Addison braced herself against the dashboard. She looked over to him, both assured and spooked by the look of deep concentration on his face.

"We're pursuing a killer who we believe intends to harm Ms. Lane," Addison explained, forcing her voice to remain steady. "It's imperative that we secure her safety before he can reach her. Do you know when she's expected to arrive?"

She could almost hear the gears turning in Waverly's head as he processed the information. Please, she silently urged. Work with me here.

"She's scheduled for an 8:30 interview," Waverly said slowly. "Usually, our guests arrive about an hour and a half early for hair and makeup."

Addison checked her watch. 7:12. They still had time, but not much.

"Mr. Waverly, I need you to put extra security on whatever entrance Ms. Lane will be using," Addison said. "The suspect's name is Ethan Gregory. We're not sure if he's armed, but he's extremely dangerous. Do not engage directly. Just keep eyes on the entrance and alert us immediately if you see him. My partner and I are en route, but we may not arrive before she does. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Waverly replied, his tone now all business. "I'll have an armed guard cover the rear entrance. That's where all our celebrity guests enter. I’ll also head down there myself.”

"Thank you," Addison said, relief washing over her. "We'll be there as soon as we can. If you see anything suspicious, don't hesitate to call this number back."

She ended the call and turned to Javier. "She’ll be there soon…like, in mere minutes.”

Javier nodded, his jaw set in grim determination. The sedan lurched forward, tires screeching as they whipped around a corner. Addison's body slammed against the passenger door, her heart rate spiking.

"Jesus, Javier," she muttered, gripping the door handle. "I’m both impressed and terrified.”

He didn't respond, eyes locked on the road ahead…though she did see a smirk form at the corner of his mouth. 

"Waverly's putting extra security on the rear entrance," Addison said, breaking the tense silence. "But we can't rely on that alone. Gregory's smart, methodical. He'll have a plan. Someone with his sort of mind and patience…"

Javier grunted in agreement, swerving around a slow-moving truck. "What's his endgame here? Why Vivian Lane?"

Addison shook her head, frustration bubbling up. "I don't know. There's a connection we're missing. Something about her role as spokeswoman for Aglow, maybe. Or perhaps it was someone his fiancé adored…maybe looked up to a bit too much."

Her words trailed off as Javier took another sharp turn, tires squealing on the wet pavement. The momentum threw her forward, seatbelt digging into her chest.

"Sorry," Javier muttered, not sounding particularly apologetic. "We're running out of time."

Addison glanced at her watch again. 7:20. Anxiety clawed at her throat. The sedan hurtled through an intersection, horn blaring as Javier expertly maneuvered around a startled delivery truck. Addison's knuckles were white, gripping the door handle.

“We're cutting it close,” Javier said, staring ahead, “but we should make it in time. That’s assuming she even gets there on time."

"Should," Addison echoed, a knot forming in her stomach. The rain pelted the windshield, wipers working overtime. She was very aware of how easily Gregory could use this weather as cover.

"Five minutes out," Javier announced, weaving through traffic. "Morning rush is just starting to build, so we avoided that. Lucky break."

Addison snorted. "If you can call any of this lucky. And listen…when we get there, head straight for the back. That's where Vivian will be entering."

He nodded, taking a sharp turn that had Addison bracing herself against the dashboard. "You think Gregory knows that too?"

"I'd bet on it," Addison replied grimly. "He's meticulous. He'll have done his homework."

The Channel 2 building loomed ahead, its glass facade gleaming dully in the gray morning light with other buildings nestled around it. Due to the early hour, the news building was the only one aglow with lights and activity. Javier pulled around to the rear lot, his speed finally coming down to something within sane limits. Addison's eyes darted around, cataloging every detail.

An imposing black Escalade sat near the entrance, engine idling. As they watched, a burly man in a suit emerged from the front passenger side, moving to open the rear door.

Addison's heart leapt into her throat as Vivian Lane emerged from the Escalade, her hair gleaming even in the dim light. "There she is," Addison said, her voice tight with tension.

Javier turned into the lot and Addison’s eyes were glued on the Escalade, Vivian Lane, and her security detail. And though that’s where her attention was focused, she also saw the flicker of movement to the right.

She looked in that direction and saw a shadowy figure burst from behind a parked truck, his movements jerky and desperate.

"Stop!" Addison yelled, though whether to Javier or the approaching assailant, she wasn't sure.

Their car screeched to a halt, the smell of burning rubber filling the air. Addison's eyes widened in horror as she watched the man – undoubtedly Ethan Gregory raise a gun, aiming it at the Escalade's security guard.

Addison reached for her door handle, her other hand already going for her holstered Glock. She opened the door but before her foot could touch pavement, the morning was cracked open by the sound of a crisp, clean gunshot.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

At the sound of the gunshot, Addison's head whipped around just in time to see Vivian Lane's guard stumble backward. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt, which made it easy to see the crimson stain blooming across his chest. He collapsed into the Escalade's side as Vivian started to scramble back toward the vehicle with a panicked shriek.

But Addison's focus zeroed in on the figure sprinting across the parking lot—Ethan Gregory, his face contorted with manic determination as he charged toward the Escalade.

"Shit," Addison hissed, adrenaline surging through her veins as she dashed away from the sedan and toward the action. Her feet pounded the asphalt as she gave chase, drawing her weapon in one fluid motion. "FBI! Freeze, Gregory!"

The command rang out uselessly. Gregory showed no sign of slowing, his lanky frame eating up the distance between him and his target with alarming speed.

Addison's mind quickly performed a rapid-fire assessment. Gregory was armed and clearly unhinged. Vivian was a sitting duck. There were too many variables, too much that could go catastrophically wrong in the next few seconds. She could fire, but it would be risky. If it wasn't a perfect shot, things could go bad. And besides, it was part of their training to never shoot a suspect unless there was no other course of action.

She heard Javier's footsteps behind her, matching her pace. "Take the shot?" he called out, voice taut with tension.

Addison's finger hovered over the trigger, indecision twisting in her gut. The smart play was to take Gregory down now, before he could reach Vivian. But if she missed...

"I don't have a clean shot!" she shouted back, frustration edging her voice. "Too much risk of—"

The retort of another gunshot cut her off mid-sentence. For a split second, Addison thought Javier had made the call himself. But a flicker of movement caught her eye—a Channel 2 security guard emerging from a side door, weapon raised. His eyes were wide with fear.

"Dammit," Addison muttered. This was spiraling out of control fast. She pushed herself harder, legs burning as she closed the gap. All it would take was one stray bullet, one wrong move. And apparently, the guard’s shot had missed, a shot going wide and though everything seemed fine, could have hit anyone.

"Gregory!" she bellowed. "Last chance! Stand down or we will use lethal force!"

But he showed no sign of hearing her, his attention locked on the Escalade as he neared his prize. Addison's stomach dropped as she realized they were out of options. Gregory reached the Escalade, wedging himself between the door and the interior of the back of the vehicle so that Vivian could not close it. Gregory was leaning into the Escalade as if pinning Vivian to the seat.

As Addison watched, dashing forward, the driver lunged, grappling for the gun, but Gregory was faster. A third deafening crack split the air, and the driver slumped back, falling to the wet pavement on the other side of the vehicle.

"No!" Addison shouted, skidding to a halt. She couldn't risk firing at Gregory now. He was blocking the interior of the car. If she took a shot, she was also endangering Vivian. Addison cursed herself for her earlier hesitation.

Javier's breath came hard beside her. "We need to flank him.”

Addison nodded, eyes never leaving the Escalade. "You go left, I'll—"

A piercing scream cut her off. Vivian Lane's terror echoed across the parking lot as Gregory dragged her from the car. He forced her to stand upright and pressed the gun to her temple. Her face was ashen, mascara streaking down her cheeks as she sobbed.

"Stay back!" Gregory roared, his eyes wild. "One more step, and I'll blow her brains out!"

Addison raised her hands, heart hammering. She wasn’t sure which avenue to take here; all she knew was that they needed to get that gun off of Vivian. Behind the Escalade and slightly to the right, she saw that the Channel 2 security guard had also frozen, not sure what to do in this situation.

"I don't think you will," Addison said, her voice steadier than she felt. "You don’t want to shoot her. You want her to burn like the others, right?"

Gregory's eyes widened, a twitch of recognition crossing his face. He nodded almost imperceptibly, but in that small movement, Addison saw the fracture lines of a man on the edge of sanity. He was a broken man.

Javier stepped forward, his voice low and controlled. "We know you're doing this for your fiancé, Ethan. But surely you know this won't bring her back."

Gregory's grip on Vivian tightened, causing her to let out a strangled gasp. "Of course I know that!" he spat, spittle flying from his lips. "But I can make them pay... I can make them all pay!"

Addison's heart raced as she processed Gregory's words. She needed to get that gun away from Vivian's head, and fast. A plan began to form, but its success hinged on Javier or the Channel 2 security guard being ready to act without any sort of a heads-up.

Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with Gregory. "But that's the thing, Ethan," she said, her voice calm but firm. "You aren't making them all pay. Adriana Garcia didn't go up in flames. She's in a hospital bed right now, recovering."

As the words left her mouth, Addison tensed, ready for Gregory's reaction. She watched his face closely, looking for any sign that her gambit was working. The gun in his hand wavered slightly, and she knew she had to press her advantage.

"Bullshit!" Gregory's scream tore through the air, his face contorting with rage. "I saw her take the pill in the airport. I saw her-"

Addison cut him off, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins, rampaging like jet fuel. "There was too much sunflower oil in your capsule. And she was allergic. She got sick and threw it up."

Gregory's eyes widened, a flicker of doubt crossing his face before being consumed by fury. "You're a liar!" he roared, suddenly swinging the gun away from Vivian's head and pointing it directly at Addison.

Bingo…

Time seemed to slow as Addison stared down the barrel for a fraction of a second. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, hear the blood rushing in her ears. 

When a fourth gunshot tore through the morning, she feared it was the end of her…that Ethan Gregory had gotten off the shot.

Instead, Gregory's body jerked at the noise, spinning slightly as the round from Javier's gun tore into his right arm. Addison just barely saw Javier to her right, Glock raised in a perfect shooter’s stance. He had been ready to act, and he wasn’t going to let her go down.

As Gregory came out of his half-spin with a moan of pain, the gun slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground.

Addison's training kicked in, her body moving on autopilot. She rushed forward, intent on subduing Gregory, but the Channel 2 security guard beat her to it. With surprising speed, he barreled into Gregory, tackling him to the asphalt with a bone-jarring thud. Gregory screamed as his wounded right arm got pinned beneath him.

As Gregory went down, Vivian stumbled backward, her face a mask of terror. She let out a piercing scream and scrambled towards the Escalade, her legs barely supporting her weight. Addison knew that if she didn’t get assistance soon, she was going to go into shock.

Addison's gaze darted between Gregory, now pinned beneath the security guard, and Vivian's retreating form. She could hear Javier behind her, calling for backup and an ambulance. The acrid smell of gunpowder hung in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

She rushed forward, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline surge. She dropped to her knees beside Gregory, who was now pinned face-down on the asphalt. The security guard had him in a tight hold, but Gregory was still thrashing, his face contorted with pain and fury.

"I've got him," Addison said, pulling out her handcuffs. "Good work."

As she secured the cuffs around Gregory's wrists, she noticed the blood seeping from his shoulder wound. It wasn't life-threatening, but it needed attention.

"Javier," she called out, "we need that ambulance ASAP."

He nodded, speaking urgently into his phone. Addison turned her attention back to Gregory, who had stopped struggling and now lay still, his breathing ragged.

The security guard eased his grip, allowing Addison to roll Gregory onto his side. As she did, she caught a glimpse of his eyes – they were vacant, unfocused. It was as if the fight had drained out of him entirely.

"Agent Shine, I take it?" the guard asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Addison looked up, surprised. "Yes, that's right. Waverly?"

He nodded, a slight smile on his weathered face. "Good to meet you. This was... well, this was terrifying."

Addison let out a short, tension-releasing laugh. "That's putting it mildly. But you handled yourself well. Thank you."

She glanced over her shoulder, noting the flurry of activity as more security personnel began to pour out of the Channel 2 building. One went to Vivian, making sure she was okay. A few others went to injured guard, and the driver. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second.

Javier appeared at her side, his eyes scanning Gregory's prone form before meeting Addison's gaze. There was a mixture of relief and satisfaction in his expression that mirrored her own feelings.

"Nice shot," Addison said, nodding towards Gregory's shoulder.

Javier shrugged, but she could see the hint of pride in his eyes. "Just doing my job, partner. You did the hard part, talking him down. And I…Christ, when that gun was trained on you, I…"

He shook his head, as if finishing the statement would be too difficult for him.

In the hectic movement of guards, Addison stood up, brushing the grit from her knees. She took a deep breath, savoring the moment. The case was closed, the killer caught. But as she found herself waiting for the wail of ambulance sirens, she knew this was just the beginning. There would be questions to answer, reports to file, and a trial to prepare for. And lengthy interrogations with Ethan Gregory.

But for now, in this brief moment of calm after the storm, Addison allowed herself to feel a sense of accomplishment. They'd saved at least one life today and captured a killer.

She was shocked when Javier reached out and took her hand. “You good?” he asked.

She nodded, though it was far too easy to recall that gun pointing at her, hearing the shot and sure it was over for her.

“Yeah,” she said. “You?”

He nodded, too, and drew her close as the sound of approaching sirens disrupted the morning.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

It wasn’t until she and Javier were sitting in Special Agent in Charge Loomis’s office three hours later that Addison realized just how tired she was. She and Javier had both been awake for nearly thirty hours to make sure this case was closed…that Ethan Gregory was caught. Her muscles ached from the tension of the standoff, and her mind kept replaying the gunshots, the blood, the look in Gregory's eyes as they'd cuffed him.

Beside her, Javier shifted in his seat, his usual easy demeanor replaced by a tight-lipped frown. Addison knew he was feeling it too - the weight of what they'd done and all that was left undone. The dangerous part was over, but there was still plenty to be done.

Loomis cleared her throat, drawing Addison's attention back to the present. "You two have done an amazing job on this," she said, her voice gruff but tinged with pride. "But damn... this is a mess."

Addison watched as Loomis rifled through a thin stack of papers on her desk, scribbling notes in the margins. The scratch of pen on paper grated on Addison's nerves. 

"What's the latest?" Javier asked, leaning forward.

Loomis sighed. "The guard Gregory shot is in surgery. Looks like he'll pull through - bullet caught him low in the ribs." She paused, her pen hovering over the page. "The driver... he didn't make it. Shot to the head. DOA."

Addison's stomach clenched. She'd known, of course - had seen the blood pooling beneath the driver's head at the scene. But hearing it confirmed made it real in a way she wasn't prepared for.

"And Gregory?" Javier asked, his voice hoarse.

"Still in the hospital," Loomis replied. "That shot to the shoulder was textbook. Good shot.”

Addison nodded, unsure if she felt relief or disappointment. Part of her had hoped... but no. Justice would be served in a courtroom, not an operating table.

"So what now?" Addison asked, voicing the question that had been rattling around in her skull ever since the ambulance had pulled away with Gregory in the back.

Loomis leaned back in her chair. "Now, we wait. Gregory's not going anywhere. Once he's stable, we'll bring him in for questioning. In the meantime, I want you two to go through his house again. Fine-toothed comb this time. There might be something we missed in the initial sweep."

Addison nodded, grateful for the task. Sitting still, rehashing the events of the morning - it was driving her mad. The image of the driver's lifeless body flashed before her eyes, a stark reminder of their failure to prevent loss of life. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

"Could we have done something different?" she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "If we'd moved faster, anticipated better..."

Javier's hand on her shoulder startled her out of her spiral. His eyes met hers, understanding and reassurance evident in his gaze. "We did everything we could, Shine. You know that."

“He’s right,” Loomis said. "Barring complications, Gregory should be released to us by tomorrow afternoon." She leaned back in her chair, fatigue evident in the lines around her eyes. "Until then, I want you both to rest up. You've done good work today. You're dismissed."

Javier rose, but Addison remained seated, her brow furrowed. The nagging feeling that they were missing something refused to subside.

"Agent Shine?" Loomis's voice held a note of concern. "Is there something else?"

Addison hesitated, then asked, "Do you know if the doctors pumped Vivian's stomach?"

Loomis shook her head. "I don't have that information. But you know as well as I do that she didn't ingest the pill. Gregory got too frustrated and gave up before he could force it down her throat. The pill was found in the floorboard in the back of her vehicle."

Addison nodded slowly, her mind racing through the possibilities. The gruesome image of Lily Zhao's chair, stained with evidence of her final, agonizing moments, flashed before her eyes. She suppressed a shudder. She just wanted to make sure no one else met that fate.

Addison finally stood, her body protesting after hours of tension. As she followed Javier out of Loomis’ office, her mind whirred with unanswered questions and half-formed theories. She knew sleep would be elusive for a while, but maybe a hot shower and a moment to breathe would help clear her head. Tomorrow, they'd dive back in, determined to unravel the final threads of this twisted case.

Javier's hand on her elbow jolted Addison from her spiraling thoughts. "We can call and check if you want," he said, his voice low and reassuring. “On Vivian Lane, I mean.”

“Yeah…maybe I will.”

As they made a few steps down the hall, she turned back and caught Loomis giving them a curious look, one eyebrow slightly raised. Heat crept up Addison's neck. Did Loomis suspect something between them? She turned quickly, suddenly feeling exposed under her boss's scrutiny. Thankfully, the phone rang on Loomis’s desk, breaking the moment apart as Loomis answered it.

As Addison and Javier approached the elevators, Addison's mind drifted to the comfort of her apartment. Hot water cascading over tense muscles, washing away the day's horrors. Maybe she'd ask Javier to stay over. The thought sent a small thrill through her, despite her exhaustion. Hadn’t they rain-checked a shower together not too long ago?

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open. Addison barely registered the muffled sound of footsteps coming from the direction of Loomis's office. When she turned in the direction of the sound, she was shocked to see Loomis hurrying down the hall to catch up to them.

"Agents! Wait!"

An eerie chill worked its way through Addison. She’d never seen her supervisor’s face write like this…pale, eyes wide with shock.

"What is it?" Javier asked, his body tensing beside Addison.

Loomis opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find words. Addison's stomach clenched. Whatever had shaken their unflappable boss, it couldn't be good.

Loomis's voice quavered as she spoke, a stark departure from her usual authoritative tone. "I don't even know how to say this," she began, her eyes darting between Addison and Javier. "That call was from the hospital. Ethan Gregory... he's dead."

Addison blinked, her brain struggling to process the information. They'd just arrested Gregory hours ago. And Loomis herself had remarked how the shot Javier had dealt out and been clean and by the book. Not surgery required. How could he be dead?

"What happened?" she asked.

Loomis shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and revulsion. "The doctor I spoke to said he just... burst into flames. Right in his hospital bed."

"What the hell?" Javier exclaimed.

Addison's stomach lurched. The image of Gregory's body engulfed in flames flashed through her mind, grotesque and surreal. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. How had that even happened?

"That's impossible," she muttered, more to herself than the others. But even as she said it, a theory began to form. “Although…maybe he knew we were on to him. Maybe he knew the end was coming and he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in prison."

She looked at Javier, seeing the same dawning realization in his eyes. "The pills," he said softly.

Addison nodded. "He chose to go out in flames rather than fade away. He must have taken one of his own pills when he realized there was no way out."

The enormity of what had happened settled over them like a heavy blanket. Gregory had cheated justice, denied his victims' families the closure of a trial. And he'd done it in the most horrific way possible. Worst of all, he probably went out feeling as if he had won.

"Jesus," Loomis breathed, running a hand over her face. "I need to make some calls. We'll need a team at the hospital immediately."

As Loomis turned to go, Addison felt Javier's hand on her arm. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Addison nodded and stared at the polished metal doors of the elevator, her reflection a ghostly apparition. They had closed the case, stopped the killer, saved a life…so why did she feel like they had lost?

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open with a soft whoosh. Addison stepped inside, Javier close behind. As the doors began to close, she caught a final glimpse of Loomis, looking small and weary in the vast hallway. She gave them a small nod before the doors were closed.

Once inside, Addison leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. "What a mess," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Javier hit the button for the ground floor, then turned to face her. "Hey, we got him. It may not have ended how we wanted, but we stopped him."

Addison nodded, unconvinced. "Did we, though? He still got the last laugh."

The elevator hummed as it descended, the floors ticking by. Javier stepped closer, his presence solid and reassuring. "Come here," he said softly.

Without hesitation, Addison moved into his embrace. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his aftershave mixed with sweat. His arms encircled her, strong and protective.

"We did good today," Javier murmured into her hair. "The aftermath sucked, but we did our jobs."

Addison nodded against his chest, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability. In the field, she was always on guard, hyper-aware. But here, in this small space with Javier, she could let her walls down.

"I keep seeing Lily Zhao's chair," she admitted, her voice muffled. "All that ash and burnt tissue..."

Javier's arms tightened around her. "I know. Me too."

The elevator slowed, nearing the ground floor. Addison reluctantly pulled away, straightening her jacket. "Thanks," she said, meeting Javier's eyes. "I needed that."

He gave her a small smile, his hand lingering on her arm. "Anytime, partner."

As the doors opened, Addison took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever came next. The case might be over, but the aftermath was just beginning. With Javier by her side, she stepped out into the lobby, ready to face whatever the rest of the day looked like.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Fire…devouring her feet, working its way up her legs. She was going to die, burned alive, her muscles and tissues fused to the chair she was sitting in. She was going—

Addison's eyes flew open as she gasped for air, her heart pounding against her ribs like a frantic bird. Sweat drenched her skin, her t-shirt clinging to her body. The nightmare clung to her consciousness, refusing to fade.

Just a nightmare, she thought. Again, that same damned nightmare. You’re fine.

In the nightmare, she was back in Ethan Gregory's basement lab, the acrid smell of chemicals burning her nostrils. Her wrists and ankles were bound to Lily Zhao's sleek office chair, the leather uncomfortably warm against her skin. Ethan Gregory loomed over her, his face twisted into a cruel smile as he flicked open a lighter. The flame danced in his eyes as he tossed it at her feet. 

Hundreds of little pills littered the floor, waiting to be swallowed. Waiting to take lives..

Fire erupted around her, licking hungrily at her legs. She could feel the heat intensifying, crawling up her calves, singeing the hair on her shins. Just as the flames reached her knees, reality snapped back into focus.

Addison sat up, running a shaky hand through her sweat-dampened hair. She glanced at the bedside table, the glowing numbers of her alarm clock reading 4:37 AM. A soft snore from beside her made her turn.

Javier lay sprawled on his stomach, one arm dangling off the bed. His face was relaxed in sleep, a stark difference from his usual intense expression. Addison's gaze lingered on the curve of his bicep, the broad planes of his back. But her focus returned to his face. He looked peaceful in his sleep, and peaceful was not a word she would often use to describe Javier Esposito.

This was the second night he'd stayed over, but they hadn't crossed that final intimacy threshold yet. Addison wasn't sure if she was ready, if she could let someone in that completely. Not with the ghosts of her past still haunting her. Yes, she'd had lovers before. But with Javier, it would be different. There was intimacy, and then there was…well, something more. Something stronger. And she wasn't sure she was ready.

It had been a week since they'd closed the Gregory case. A week since that bastard had gone up in flames in his hospital bed by his own design, denying them true justice. The irony wasn't lost on Addison - her nightmare seemed a twisted reflection of Gregory's end.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Javier. As she padded to the adjoined bathroom, her mind churned. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, a testament to too many restless nights. She sighed and then splashed some cold water into her face. She knew the drill…awaken by a nightmare this late meant she wasn’t going back to sleep.

Returning to the bedroom, she paused to watch Javier sleep. A warmth bloomed in her chest, tempered by a familiar anxiety. How long before he realized how broken and weird she was.

Addison shook her head, banishing the traitorous thoughts. She grabbed her running clothes from the dresser, determined to outrun her demons, if only for a little while.

A soft rustle from the bed made Addison freeze. Javier stirred, his voice husky with sleep. "You okay?"

She turned, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a bad dream."

"Again?" Concern tinged his words.

"Uh huh." Addison shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "Go back to sleep. I think I'm just going to put some coffee on and go for a run."

Javier's eyes opened wider for a moment, but he nodded and relented. "Alright. Be safe out there." He grunted something else unintelligible as he rolled over, burying his face in the pillow.

Addison's chest tightened. His care was evident, but it scared her. She wasn't used to someone worrying about her. As she slipped out of the room, she wondered if she'd ever truly be able to let her guard down.

In the living room, a familiar meow greeted her. Snape came trotting over, weaving between her legs, nearly tripping her.

"Hey, furball," she murmured, reaching down to scratch his ears. "You don’t like sharing your side of the bed with Javi, do you?”

He did not. On the nights Javier stayed over, Snape had come out to the living room and slept on the couch.

His purr followed her to the kitchen, where he rubbed himself against her calf while she set up the coffee maker. The routine motions grounded her, pushing back the lingering unease from her nightmare. While she had just closed a case that involved manufactured spontaneous human combustion, life went on. Coffee was brewed. Bills were paid. Cats were desperate for attention.

As the rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the air, Addison retreated to the half bathroom in the hallway to change. She pulled on her running tights and sports bra, then paused, studying her reflection. The woman staring back looked tired, haunted. She squared her shoulders, determination settling over her features.

Emerging from the bathroom, Addison found Snape sitting expectantly by his food bowl. She chuckled, filling it with cat chow before pouring herself a cup of coffee. The first sip burned, shocking her system awake. She downed half the cup quickly, savoring the bitter warmth. It was just enough to get her going. She’d take the time to actually enjoy a cup when she got back…maybe over a lazy breakfast with Javier.

"Be back in a bit," she whispered to Snape, who was too engrossed in his breakfast to acknowledge her. Addison headed for the front door, ready to pound the pavement and clear her head. 

She opened the door, took a single step out into the hallway, and froze. 

A package sat in front of her door, innocuous yet somehow ominous in the pre-dawn gloom coming in through the hallway windows. Her hand hovered, suspended between the door and the unexpected delivery. It wasn't the sleek Amazon packaging she was used to; this was something far more ominous. A few haphazard strips of packing tape held it closed as if the sender had been in a hurry.

"What the hell?" she muttered as a little flutter of nervousness prickled her from inside.

She glanced back at the bedroom door, half-tempted to wake Javier. But no, he needed his rest. And really, what was she afraid of? A cardboard box?

Still, caution won out. Addison cracked the door open, peering down at the package. No return address, no shipping label. Just her name scrawled across the top in unfamiliar handwriting. She tried to recall ordering anything online but nothing came to mind. Not in the past few weeks, anyway.

She scooped up the box, surprised by its lightweight. Back in the kitchen, she set it on the table, eyeing it warily. Snape, finished with his breakfast, hopped up to help investigate. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the box, giving it a cautious shake. Something inside tumbled with a soft thud.

"What do you think, buddy? Bomb or book?" Addison asked, scratching behind his ears.

Snape meowed, batting at the corner of the box.

"Yeah, you're right. Probably not a bomb."

Her fingers hesitated over the tape. The last time an unexpected package had shown up at her door, it had been that cryptic letter about Jane. The similarities were too close for comfort.

Finally peeling back the tape, her hands trembled slightly. The cardboard flaps fell open, revealing crumpled newspaper. Addison's breath caught in her throat as she pushed aside the pages. The sound the newspaper pages made in the otherwise quiet apartment was eerie. She pushed it all aside and revealed the contents of the box.

She knew what it was right away, but her brain simply refused to acknowledge for a moment. When it finally caught up, Addison gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. 

"Oh my God," she breathed. “What the hell?”

There, nestled in crumpled newspaper, lay a book. An old and very familiar book.

Tears pricked at Addison's eyes as she lifted it carefully, reverently. The worn cover was achingly familiar, transporting her back to childhood in an instant. It brought about a vision of Jane that was so startling and clear that it felt like an iron spike to the heart.

"How?" Addison whispered to the kitchen. "Where did this come from?"

She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the cover. Part of her desperately wanted to dive in, if for no other reason but to convince herself the book she held in her hands was not some psychedelic memory, but the real thing.

Addison leaned against the kitchen counter, her planned morning jog completely forgotten. She stared at the book in her hands, shaking her head as she felt tears forming her eyes.

“How…?”

And a better question, the more logical part of her mind said, is who?

The book’s faux leather cover was cracked and faded, its once-vibrant burgundy now a muted rust. She cradled it in her hands, feeling the weight of memories and long-buried emotions.

With a deep breath, she flipped open the cover. The looping script that hit her like a punch to the gut. In child’s exaggerated handwriting were the words: "Property of Jane Shine. HANDS OFF!"

Addison choked back a sob, her fingertips ghosting over the childish warning. "Jane…" she whispered.

The jog was forgotten. Even the coffee was forgotten. Addison sank into a kitchen chair, the journal open on her lap. She took a deep breath and began to read, diving into the past and hoping to find answers to questions that had haunted her for years.

NOW AVAILABLE!

FIND HOPE

(An Addison Shine FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 7)

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When victims fall prey to an invisible executioner, suffocating in rooms filled with breathable air, FBI Agent Addison Shine's unique forensic acumen is put to the ultimate test: to piece together a lethal puzzle where fear itself becomes a weapon. Can she uncover the secret behind these breathless deaths before the killer strikes again?

FIND HOPE (An Addison Shine FBI Suspense Thriller–Book #7) is the seventh book in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, whose bestseller NOT NOW (a free download) has received over 600 five star ratings and reviews. The series begins with FIND ME (Book #1).

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Future books in the series will soon be available!

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“I really enjoyed this book. The characters were authentic, and I see the bad guys as something we hear about daily on the news... Looking forward to book 2.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“This was a really good book. The main characters were real, flawed and human. The story went along quickly and wasn't mired in too many unnecessary details. I really enjoyed it.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Alexa Chase is headstrong, impatient, but most of all brave with a capital B. She never, repeat never, backs down until the bad guys are put where they belong. Clearly five stars!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn’t put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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FIND HOPE

(An Addison Shine FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 7)

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting);  the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the KELSEY HAWK SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising nine books (and counting); the NORA PRICE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting); OF the BARREN PINES PSYCHOLIGICAL SUSPENSE series, comprising seven books (and counting); and of the ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting).

THE KILLING GAME (an Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book #1), LET ME GO (an Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book #1), and NOT ME (a Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book #1) are available as free downloads on Amazon!

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

BOOKS BY KATE BOLD

ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIND ME (Book #1)

FIND HER (Book #2)

FIND HELP (Book #3)

FIND HOME (Book #4)

FIND HIM (Book #5)

FIND YOU (Book #6)

FIND HOPE (Book #7)

FIND NO ONE (Book #8)

FIND OUT (Book #9)

FIND DEATH (Book #10)

BARREN PINES

THE UNSEEN NEIGHBOR (Book #1)

THE UNSEEN WIFE (Book #2)

THE UNSEEN KILLER (Book #3)

THE UNSEEN WOMAN (Book #4)

THE UNSEEN PAST (Book #5)

NINA VEIL SUSPENSE THRILLER

AWAY FROM HERE (Book #1)

AWAY FROM HIM (Book #2)

AWAY FROM HOPE (Book #3)

AWAY FROM HOME (Book #4)

AWAY FROM HUMANITY (Book #5)

KELSEY HAWK MYSTERY

DEAD INSIDE (Book #1)

DEAD RECKONING (Book #2)

DEAD TO ME (Book #3)

DEAD SILENCE (Book #4)

DEAD TO DAWN (Book #5)

DEAD END (Book #6)

DEAD OF NIGHT (Book #7)

DEAD CALM (Book #8)

DEAD AND GONE (Book #9)

ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)

THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)

THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)

THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)

THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)

THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)

ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER

LET ME GO (Book #1)

LET ME OUT (Book #2)

LET ME LIVE (Book #3)

LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)

LET ME FORGET (Book #5)

LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)

CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT ME (Book #1)

NOT NOW (Book #2)

NOT WELL (Book #3)

NOT HER (Book #4)

NOT NORMAL (Book #5)

NOT AGAIN (Book #6)

NOT SAFE (Book #7)

NOT TODAY (Book #8)

HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)

NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)

NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)

NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)

NOWHERE PURE (Book #8)

NOWHERE SOUND (Book #9)

NOWHERE SANE (Book #10)

NOWHERE TRUE (Book #11)

KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

LAST BREATH (Book #1)

LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

LAST WISH (Book #3)

LAST SHOT (Book #4)

LAST MISTAKE (Book #5)

EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IN HIS BLOOD (Book #1)

IN HIS SIGHTS (Book #2)

IN HIS REACH (Book #3)

IN HIS MIND (Book #4)

IN HIS WAY (Book #5)

IN HIS THOUGHTS (Book #6)

IN HIS DREAMS (Book #7)

DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

OUT OF REACH (Book #1)

OUT OF TOUCH (Book #2)

OUT OF TIME (Book #3)

OUT OF BOUNDS (Book #4)

OUT OF LUCK (Book #5)

LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMETHING KNOCKING (Book #1)

SOMETHING CALLING (Book #2)

SOMETHING WRONG (Book 3)

SOMETHING DARK (Book #4)

SOMETHING TO HIDE (Book #5)