My beautiful English rose. Soon you will be mine.
As sweet as it is, I can’t help thinking that the wording is a bit strange for Jake. I am already his, and he knows it. He tells me often enough.
With a shake of my head, I quickly slip into a dress and make my way downstairs with the piece of paper. As I enter the kitchen, I stop in my tracks when I see Jake—with only a pair of shorts on—cutting into some sandwiches. I’m so blown away by the sheer statuesque beauty of this man that I almost forget what I’m standing here for. I tilt my head to the side, marveling at his shape. He really does have the most impressive V I have ever seen.
Jake senses my presence and looks behind him with a smile. “What’s that you’ve got in your hand?”
My face crinkles at his statement. “As if you don’t already know. What do you mean by ‘soon you will be mine’? I am already yours, silly.” On a smile, I shake my head before sitting on one of the barstools. When I realize he hasn’t said anything, I look up.
He looks white as a sheet.
“What are you talking about? What is that piece of paper?”
I’m rooted to the spot as he comes over to me, whipping the piece of paper out of my hand. “You didn’t write this?” I ask in shock.
Jake places the note down quickly before rushing to the phone. “Where did you find this?” I’m still frozen, and my eyes are practically bulging with shock. His panic is making me panic. “Ana, where did you find this note?”
Somehow, I finally manage to speak. “It was on my pillow in my bedroom.”
His body is rigid with anger as he starts frantically dialing a number. All I can do is watch as I desperately try to gather my thoughts and figure out what the hell is going on.
After a minute, I hear him speak. “Michael, you need to get your ass down here now with a forensic team. He left Ana a note on her fucking bed. He was in my house!” He bangs his fist on the breakfast bar, making me jump. “Yes, I’m fucking sure. You better let Agent Marcos know too. He may want to pay us a visit.” He pauses a moment, and I watch as he closes his eyes and grabs the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see you soon.” With that he hangs up.
Jake sighs like he has the weight of the world on his shoulder. Sensing me, he glances over and sees me staring at him in utter terror. He must see my panic because he rushes over to me. I’m as still as a statue. My thoughts scramble as I try to understand what—if anything—this all means. It’s only when Jake places his hands on me that I realize the grave nature of the situation.
Someone has been in our house and left a note on my bed. How the hell did they get in? And who the hell was it?
Jake sees the questions in my eyes, so he moves to sit opposite me on the barstool. I manage to snap out of it long enough to ask Jake what in the hell is going on, and that’s when he gets back up again. I watch as he paces, raking his hands through his hair and rubbing his eyes. He looks exhausted.
“Jake?” I ask, even more anxious.
He stops his pacing and walks over to me. With a deep breath, he begins to tell me what he knows.
“A couple of weeks back at the last murder scene we attended, the Blonde Killer left a note.” I start shaking as it suddenly dawns on me what he’s about to say. “It said, ‘She is not my English rose’. He sighs again before continuing. “At the time, we didn’t know what to think and thought it a strange coincidence that in this area we had someone who seemed to have an obsession with a blonde, blue-eyed English woman. It was then we began shutting you out and searching for how many English, blonde women there are in this area. I would have given the case to Jessie to take over, but I felt she would never be able to keep this from you—seeing how you both seem so close. I also wanted to be sure first before I approached you with the information. Now it seems certain that you are his obsession.”
I look away, tears welling in my eyes. Jake grabs my shaking hands as I try to wrap my head around this information. Who is this psycho? And what does he want with me?
“Ana, look at me, please.” I look up at his eyes as tears are threatening to sting my own. “After the scene at the bar, I asked Michael to check out that asshole who grabbed you. Turns out he’s an investment broker a couple of blocks from the station. Not only that, he’s married with a kid. We tailed him for a while, but realized it wasn’t him when we traced his whereabouts on the dates of the murders. We found that he had been on business trips in Florida and New York when three of the murders took place.” He sighs again before trailing his hand down my face. “I’m so sorry that I kept this from you, but can you think of anyone who has been acting suspicious around you lately? Or have you noticed anyone acting strangely?”
A tear runs down my face as I try to wrack my brain over the past few weeks. In the end, I can’t think of anything. I shake my head.
“I will not let anything happen to you. Do you hear me? I promise I will protect you. We will catch this son of a bitch, and when we do, he will be sorry he ever looked your way, let alone managed to get in this house and leave a note.” He thinks for a moment before continuing. “I can’t understand that,” he finally says. “There is no sign of a break-in, and the alarms have always been switched on when we are out, which can only mean—” His eyes widen at the sudden realization.
He was in the house when we were.
After a few minutes of Jake cursing and me still in shock, the doorbell rings, causing me to jump out of my skin.
“It’s okay. That will be Michael.” He answers the door, and Michael walks in with Tom and another man. They all acknowledge me briefly, but their main focus is on the note.
Michael, seeing that I’m upset, walks up to me with a smile. “You okay? You do know he won’t get to you, don’t you? We won’t ever let the asshole get that far.”
I manage to muster a smile, nodding at him. I have every faith that they will protect me, but I can’t be watched over twenty-four seven. And that, above all else is what’s frightening me the most.
“Ana?”
I look up to find the strange man in a suit looking down at me. He seems to be in his early forties, about average height, with brown hair swept back, and a mole on his right cheek.
“I’m Agent Andrew Marcos from the FBI. I’m investigating the Blonde Killer, and I would like to ask you some questions, if I may? Can we go somewhere quieter?”
I glance to Jake, and he nods his head. I nod back, gathering myself together as I walk towards the living room. Once there, I take a seat on the monstrous sofa with Marcos sitting across from me on the other end.
“Are you okay to talk to me?”
With my mind swimming with all the information Jake’s made me process in the last few minutes running through my head, I’m unsure. But I know I have to get this over with. “Yes, I’m okay to talk.” He nods with a reassuring smile.
“I understand you’re an analyst at the Fairfax station and have been involved in this case to some degree?” I nod. “Can you tell me what level of involvement you’ve had?”
I clear my throat before beginning. “I was involved in investigating each case, where they happened, and where he could possibly strike next. I also looked into previous cases from years ago of a similar nature to see if there were any connections from past cases to this, if anyone was caught, what time they served, and who was eliminated from previous crimes. I came up with a few possibilities, but this guy is smart. It’s almost as if he is watching our investigation.” His eyebrow rises as he jots something down in his notebook.