Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(56)
Author: Abigail Roux

The fall weather had turned the trees into brilliant colors, painting a normally dreary location with streaks of life. It was an odd dichotomy that made his chest ache even more.

Ty finally determined that they were in relatively the right spot, and he folded the paper and slid it back into his pocket. “This is it,” he murmured.

They stood on the path that wound through the yard, near a set of family tombs, all lined up in neatly hewn squares. Zane didn’t say anything.

Instead, he waited to see what insights Ty might have. This side of the search wasn’t something Zane had much experience with; he was trained to follow paper trails and details, not pick other people’s thoughts and motivations out of thin air.

Ty was silent as Zane waited, walking around the site slowly with his head down. It was an entirely different side of him; a calm, collected one that seemed totally at odds with his usual abrasiveness. Zane could no longer tell which side of him was the real one.

“This has a reverence to it,” Ty finally murmured curiously after almost ten minutes of silence and pondering. “Almost … romantic. There were no tire or machine marks anywhere, meaning he carried her here from the entrance.” He looked back the way they had come. It was a long way to walk with a heavy burden in your arms. He looked back at Zane and frowned.

“It feels old. Antiquated,” he went on in a voice that sounded slightly confused. “Like something the killer saw in a movie or read in a book and wanted to reenact.”

Zane had heard him, but it didn’t really sink in at first. As he’d looked around the setting, turning his back to the monuments to look back out at the yard, a grave covered with stacks of fresh flowers had snared his attention. It was impossible not to draw parallels to his last time in a graveyard. Several heartbeats after Ty’s words, Zane shook himself. “Yeah, yeah it does,” he agreed quietly.

“None of the others seemed to be like that. Left in their own beds, dumped in random places,” Ty murmured, talking more to himself than to Zane. “Why was this one special? Was it even special at all or is that just another different element we have to add to this particular murder?”

Blinking a few times, Zane pulled his attention back to his partner.

“I’m not sure I’d say it was special. We don’t even know if she was killed here or if she was moved here.”

Ty glanced around the graveyard, trying to let the setting speak to him. “No,” he murmured. “She wasn’t killed here,” he declared, though he didn’t know what made him think that. “But she was left here for a reason, I’m sure of it.”

“It would track then that all of them were left where they were…as they were … for a reason,” Zane added, shifting his weight and taking several steps along the path before turning to look around them again.

“Not necessarily,” Ty argued stubbornly. “You yourself said that the pattern is in the method. What if part of the method is the placement of the body in one case, but not in another? What if it mattered more where this body was left than how she was killed, but it mattered more that another was killed in a certain way and not where they were left?”

Zane’s lips twitched. “You know, I actually understood that,” he said, shaking his head. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess we’ll have to figure it out both ways until we get a lead,” he offered.

Ty sneered at him and looked away, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he stared through the rain. It was coming down harder, sliding down the collar of his jacket and making him shiver. He had definitely lived through worse, but it was still uncomfortable.

The start of the rain gave Zane a chill, and his attention was drawn back to the graves. He watched the raindrops plop onto a bare patch of dirt, darkening it drip by drip. Rivulets dappled the colored flowers that were placed along some of the gravestones, and Zane’s gaze went soft and unfocused. Rain on flowers. Wet dirt. The ache swelled and he couldn’t ignore the memories any longer.

Ty turned back to say more and caught the look on Zane’s face. He snapped his mouth shut and frowned. “Are you okay?” he asked again with a hint of annoyance.

The other man didn’t acknowledge him. He was standing in the same place. He hadn’t turned his head; it didn’t even look like he’d taken a breath.

His eyes were lowered and looking out at something indefinable.

“Garrett!” Ty barked loudly.

A few more silent moments passed before Zane looked up at Ty deliberately. His face was now set in the emotionless mask he’d not worn for a couple days, and his eyes were dry. But the light in them was gone, and his gaze was empty.

“What the hell, man?” Ty questioned in annoyance. “Are you okay?”

he repeated.

“Have you found what you were looking for?” Zane asked. His voice was brittle, but he didn’t look away from Ty.

Ty’s brow furrowed in confusion and he cocked his head. He looked around the cemetery, knowing he could spend the entire dreary day there and still not find what he was looking for. But it was no use if Zane was going to go all wonky on him. “Sure,” he finally answered. “Let’s go.”

Zane turned smartly on his heel and started walking.

Ty remained where he was for a moment and watched him in confusion. Finally, he bent and picked up one of the perfect yellow leaves and slid it into his pocket, then followed after his partner slowly.

The long, even strides didn’t stop until Zane was through the gate and back out at the street, flagging down a cab. The first one kept going, and so he kept a sharp eye out. He still felt ill. It had come out of nowhere, the specter of memories five years old that he’d thought were just as buried as his wife.

Ty jogged to catch up to him as a second cab stopped at Zane’s summons. They climbed in and shook off the water, and Ty gave the driver the name of their hotel. He had hoped to see more of the scenes, but he would rather do it alone than like this.

Five minutes into the ride, Zane finally closed his eyes and relaxed a little. He propped his elbow against the window and rubbed his eyes. God, he hated memories sometimes. They brought back nightmares he didn’t want.

Frankly, he didn’t want the good or the bad, because the good were even worse. He knew Ty wanted to know what was going on, but Zane wasn’t sure he could even spit out the words.

“Whenever you’re ready, man,” Ty prodded irritably.

Zane slanted an equally annoyed glance Ty’s way. “Bad memories, okay?” he muttered.