I keep running, refusing to believe I’ve lost him. I end up in a small, enclosed courtyard surrounded by high brick walls, but I can’t see the mask anywhere. I turn to the phone, praying, begging for a message, but it taunts me with more silence.
I lost. Another plan backfires and bites me in the ass.
I remove my sunglasses and share my location so Tristan can find me. Then my eyes roll heavenwards. How did Butterfly Man disappear just like that? “Where the fuck are you?!”
“Looking for me?”
With a gasp, I spin around, gun at attention. A man steps out from the shadows near the far wall. No mask. No hoodie.
“Wow, easy.” Detective Reid stands before me, his hands raised, his expression surprised rather than menacing.
“Don’t take another step,” I warn.
“Okay. All right.” He stops mid-step. “Can you tell me what’s happening here?”
“Enough games. I know it’s you. You’re the stalker. You’ve been all this time. Your new name. The flowers, the restaurant, the notes, always fishing for information… The murders.”
“What? No, Birdie. I’m definitely not your stalker.”
“I said enough lies. I was literally just chasing you, while you had your mask on. You led me down here.”
“No, Birdie. I got a text from you, asking me to meet you here so I could show you the new evidence I had.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know who your stalker is. I found a video of him sliding down a note under your hotel room door.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. Let me show you the video—” Reid tries to reach for his phone.
“Don’t move!” I tighten my grip on the gun. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Birdie, please. You need to see this. It’ll prove I’m not your stalker.”
“How do you even know about the note he left at the hotel? That was more than a year ago. I’ve never mentioned it to you.”
“You filed a complaint, remember, the one you thought was ignored by the police? That’s how we first met on Martha’s Vineyard. I’ve been following up on it. I went to the hotel you mentioned in the report and found the footage. I’m surprised no one has ever asked to see the security tapes. It was literally sitting right there.”
Blake did, but he couldn’t find anything. “Nice try. You probably doctored whatever video you think you have. You’re good at forging those. You managed to alter live security feed,remember? When you visited me in my bedroom under the nose of my bodyguards?”
“I’ve never done that, Birdie, and I didn’t doctor anything. The hotel manager gave me access to their archived footage from the night of the incident. The timestamp matches, if you’d just look at the video…” His hand starts to move.
“One move, and I’ll shoot. You know I will.”
He freezes. “Look, I understand why you don’t trust me, but I’m trying to help you.”
“Really? Then explain why you changed your name.”
His expression shifts, more sinister. “My name is Reid Jacob Ashford. Changing last names for security reasons is more common in our field than you think. For me, I had to change it because of what happened with my partner here in Miami.” He pauses. “There was an incident. He got involved in something dirty and left the force. I had to transfer under an alias until it’s resolved.”
“You followed me to Martha’s Vineyard!”
“No, Birdie. Once you see the video, I swear you’ll understand everything.”
Who is in that video? Who else could Butterfly Man be if not the detective? I don’t know what to believe anymore. How can I trust a single wordReid Jacob Ashfordsays? I keep the gun trained on him, my hands shaking. “Tristan will be here any minute. You will throw your phone in his direction, and he’ll show it to me.”
His jaw clenches, but he nods once. “Fair enough. Can you put your gun down now?”