I took a deep breath, ready to try and share what I could, but I was interrupted.

“What’s happening?” Len asked, and I followed her gaze to the giant crowd of people ahead.

I spotted the caution tape before she did and tucked her into my side instinctively. Crime rates were lower than most cities and towns in the entire country in Briarport. The worst this town had seen was petty theft or a bar fight until the Coastal Killer. That peace had returned the moment the serial killer disappeared.

I knew the pub wasn’t far. This was the road it was on, so we’d have to pass whatever the commotion ahead was. I prepared myself for the worst, ready to protect Len.

We approached the crowd, and I could hear the whispers. Len’s muscles tensed against my body as my arm remained firmly wrapped around her shoulders.

Two words were whispered over and over.

Coastal Killer.

I pushed her to the front, trying to get a look. It was hard to see through the massive amount of people, drawn in by the crowd. My arm dropped from around Len, but I managed to still guide her through.

I spotted the body bag before anything else. It was unzipped on the ground, a tarp covered mass beside it. I swallowed hard when I saw the manicured hand poking out from under it, covered in blood, dry and caked to the skin. I noticed the red nail polish underneath the blood. My mind tried to block out the image of what I assumed was underneath the tarp: a body brutally torn apart.

I noticed the sheriff nearby, and as his gaze caught mine, he came storming over to where we stood behind the caution tape.

“This is your fault,” he hissed.

I felt Len trembling beside me at the sight of a covered body. I had to get her out of there. I knew they’d attempt to move the victim into the body bag to transport them to the morgue as fast as possible. I wouldn’t let her see that. The growing crowd posed their only problem, but eventually they’d be forced to do it.

“Was there a ring?” I asked, ignoring the sheriff’s outburst.

“What?” he stuttered.

“Was there a ring?” I repeated, slow and clear.

He paused for a moment and glanced back to where his deputies puttered around the scene. He turned back and nodded, careful not to answer out loud and draw attention. He’d only confirm what the people already whispered.

“They cut the ring finger clean off. We can’t find it,” he said quietly.

This was already growing out of my hands; the unsub had escalated. The killing turned it back into an active FBI case. The bureau would be alerted and arrive soon. I cursed under my breath, knowing what this meant.

My bargained time was over.