EvelynHart

Detective Jane Michaels arrives in Ridgeview to start fresh after a catastrophic case nearly ended her career. On her first day, she’s assigned a gruesome case involving a serial killer who dresses his victims as brides and leaves a single rose.

As Jane dives deeper, she uncovers unsettling details about the victims and their lives. Amidst the investigation, she crosses paths with Nathaniel Carter, a kind and mysterious local writer who slowly chips away at her walls.

But Ridgeview is a town of secrets, and the truth is never as it seems. When a victim escapes the killer’s clutches and gives a description, the case takes an unexpected turn. The town is rocked as the killer is unmasked—someone who was hiding in plain sight.

In the final confrontation, Jane must use her wit and emotional resilience to bring the killer to justice. But even as the case is solved, a sinister shadow lingers, and Jane faces her own demons, left with an unsettling gift that raises more questions than answers.

The Bride Killa

The drive to Nathaniel Blackwell's cabin was longer than Jane remembered. A winding road through dense, skeletal trees led her deeper into the outskirts of Ridgeview, where the air grew colder, the silence more profound.

She had told herself this was about finding answers. That the only way to truly know what Nathaniel was hiding was to get closer.

But as she pulled up to his cabin, an unsettling thought crept into her mind—what if she was walking straight into the lion's den?

Nathaniel greeted her at the door with an easy smile. "I wasn't expecting company."

"I figured we should talk," Jane said, forcing a lightness to her tone. "After last night."

His smile remained, but something flickered behind his eyes. "Then come in."

The cabin was exactly how she'd imagined it—walls lined with bookshelves, a fireplace crackling in the corner, a large oak desk stacked with scattered notes and manuscripts. The scent of old paper and faint cologne lingered in the air.

Nathaniel moved with an effortless calm, pouring them both a drink before sitting across from her. "You've been thinking about my ex-fiancée."

Jane studied him. "Should I not be?"

His fingers drummed lightly against the glass. "Claire left because she wanted to. People disappear all the time, Jane. Doesn't mean they were taken."

"You didn't seem surprised when I asked about her."

Nathaniel smirked, tilting his head. "Would you have preferred if I was?"

The Photo – A Chilling Discovery

As the evening stretched on, Jane let herself settle into the space, pretending to let her guard down. Nathaniel spoke about his writing, his process, his fascination with human psychology.

But when he stepped away to take a phone call, she wandered.

Books, everywhere. Some stacked haphazardly, others meticulously arranged. She ran her fingers along their spines, pausing on one that looked well-worn. A poetry collection.

It was a woman. Dark hair, bright eyes. Smiling. But what made her blood run cold was that she looked eerily similar to the first victim of the Bride Killer.

And pressed against the photograph—tucked delicately between the pages—was a single, dried rose petal.

Nathaniel's voice was quiet. "Find something interesting?"

Jane turned slowly, masking the panic rising in her throat. "I was just looking."

Nathaniel stepped closer. The warmth from earlier had evaporated, replaced with something unreadable.

"That's an old photograph," he said. "A memory."

"She looks like one of the victims."

Jane set the photo back into the book. "Why keep it here?"

Nathaniel smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We all have things we hold onto, Jane. Don't you?"

Nathaniel's behavior shifted again, like a storm passing too quickly. He moved to the fireplace, staring into the flames.

"You think I'm dangerous," he mused. "You're wondering if you should be afraid."

Jane kept her voice steady. "Should I be?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "If I were the man you think I am, Jane, you wouldn't have made it this far."

Every nerve in her body screamed at her to go.

She forced a laugh. "I should get back. It's late."

Nathaniel turned to her, expression unreadable. "Of course."

But as she reached her car, she had the overwhelming feeling that she had just escaped something she wasn't meant to.

Back at her apartment, Jane locked the door behind her, exhaling shakily.

She pulled out her phone, dialing Marcus.

"I found something," she whispered. "Something bad."

And as she spoke, she didn't notice the shadow moving outside her window.

Chapter Eighteen: "The Mask Slips"