The light of the moon danced across the night sky, casting a glow over Puget Sound.
He kissed his way down her taut stomach, enjoying every soft curve and sweet moan. She tasted like warm honey. Her slender fingers threaded through his hair, guiding him to where she needed it most. It was easy to get lost in her pleasure, and there wasn’t any other place he’d rather be.
She was home.
She lifted her hips. “Oh, Jag,” she whispered.
Wanting to feel her climax tighten around him, he eased himself into her, kissing her tenderly.
She accepted his weight as if they were one person. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony. Their soft moans filled the room, adding to the music.
They were made for each other, and he would spend the next few days showing her just how much they should be together.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear while her body convulsed and shivered. He soaked up her orgasm before releasing his own.
“Jag,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t. It’s just that saying it will only make leaving harder.”
He squeezed his eyes tight. “I know, babe. It’s okay.” He kissed her temple. Letting her go again was going to kill him.
Chapter 10
The acid in Jag’s stomach churned. He couldn’t even take a sip of his coffee; his belly was so sour. He made the turn down Park Avenue, and as much as he wanted to deny reality, he knew deep down the Trinket Killer had returned.
He pulled into the brand-new glamping site and parked behind Jenna’s patrol car. Also at the crime scene was Hanson Paget, one of his other officers.
Jag put the Jeep in park and surveyed the area. There were six glamping tents with one game tent, a tiki bar, firepit, and an outdoor kitchen. Hanson stood by the kitchen area with a group of people while Jenna made her way from one of the tents toward Jag. He sucked in a deep breath and stepped from his SUV.
“Hey, Chief,” Jenna said. “Sorry to have woken you up.”
He took a quick glance at his Apple Watch. Callie would be up soon, and she wasn’t going to be happy he left without waking her.
Especially when she reads the note.
“It had to be done,” he said. “So, what do we have?”
“White female. Approximately twenty-five to thirty years of age. Long blond hair. Tall. Slender. And she had one of those raven things you showed me in her left hand.”
He rubbed his temple. “Left hand? Not right?”
“Yup,” Jenna said. “And it was the rose gold raven trinket.”
“The dolphins had been gold at first, then silver. All in their right hand. The other girls had been mood rings on their left ring finger.”
“What are you babbling about?” Jenna asked.
“Cases that might be connected.”
“Okay. I get the connection with the dolphins. That would be the Trinket Killer. But what about mood rings?”
“I’ll send you the files, but we found a case that we thought was closed, but maybe it was the early work of the Trinket Killer, who might be a woman.”
“That’s an interesting twist,” Jenna said. “I’d like to see what made you draw that conclusion.”
“Since the fucking asshole decided to drop a body on our doorstep, I’ll make sure you get everything,” he said. “I want you taking lead anyway.”
“The mainland’s going to do that, and you know it. I’ve already called CSI and the medical examiner. They are in the front of the ferry line right now,” Jenna said. “Oh, and before I forget, Matt’s on his way.”
Jag headed toward the tent where the body was found. “Why? This didn’t happen in the city of Seattle.”
“Nope. But since we’re probably going to make the connection to the Trinket Killer, he wants to be involved.”
“Why him?” Not that he minded working with Matt. If anything, he’d prefer him. He just wanted to know why and how it happened so quickly.
“Don’t get mad, Chief, but I called him directly first. I thought you’d want to get ahead of this just in case we really are dealing with that bastard again.” Jenna stopped at the base of the tent platform and looped her fingers in her uniform belt.
“That was smart. Thanks. Now tell me everything I need to know.” He sucked in a deep breath and tentatively ducked under the crime scene tape. The body lay on her back with her head tilted to the side. Her long hair haphazardly covered her face. Her left arm stretched out to the side, and her right one was draped over her stomach. She wore a pair of jeans, cowboy boots, and a thick white sweater now stained with blood from where she’d been stabbed.
Everything about the scene was identical to ten of the other Trinket Killers.
The ten that he’s decided the killer didn’t care as much about because the kills weren’t as violent nor did the killer take the extra steps of cleaning up and presenting the body.
Nope. All he—she did was make sure the trinket was placed in the hand.
“Our victim, Barbara Quinn, checked in at around six in the evening. Her girlfriend was supposed to meet her here around nine, but she never showed.”
“Where is the girlfriend now?”
“We don’t know,” Jenna said. “We believe her name is Holly Whalen and that our victim just met her a couple of weeks ago.”
“Was she already on the island?”
“According to the owners of the glamping site, when Barbara checked in, she said her new girlfriend was coming from the mainland. Hanson is still interviewing everyone. Barbara was quite friendly and spent some time at the tiki bar with a bottle of wine. One of the guests said she was pretty tipsy when she went to bed at midnight.”
Jag arched a brow. “And what did she have to say about her new girlfriend and her ETA? The ferry only runs until one in the morning.”
“Same guest said Holly finally texted back stating something came up and she’d call in the morning.”
“Ouch,” Jag
