Killing Noah was no longer about anger. It was about balance. He was holding Evan together. And as long as Evan was steady, he would never fall toward me.
So Noah had to go. Not because I hated him. Because he was in the way. I don't act without structure. I don't let emotion lead. I build outcomes.
First, I asked myself. If Noah dies, who benefits? Who gets questioned first? Where would suspicion move? It cannot point at me. So it must look accidental. Or external. Or connected to the case in a way that makes sense.
A field lead. A tip. An isolated location. An encounter gone wrong. Clean. Believable. Engineered.
Still… before moving forward, I wanted to see him. Not to change my mind. To strengthen it.
I walked into the station late in the afternoon. Calm. Normal. Me.
The bullpen sounded ordinary. Phones ringing. Chairs moving. Someone laughing too loudly near the printer. Then I saw her. Rhea. She was sitting alone, files spread across her desk, deep in concentration. And I recognized the files instantly. Our case. My case.
I changed direction casually and stopped behind her.
"What are you working on?" I asked lightly.
She jumped a little, then smiled. "Just digging deeper into our mystery man."
"Our mystery man?" I tilted my head.
She shrugged. "The serial guy. Noah started calling him 'Hunter.' It stuck." Of course he did.
I smiled faintly. "So you call him Hunter now?"
"Yeah," she said. "It fits, doesn't it?"
I didn't answer that. I looked down at her desk. And that's when my heartbeat changed. Pinned to the top of her stack was a comparison sheet.
Victim details on one side. Response times on the other.
Underneath that-
A heading typed in bold:
Scene Presence Overlap – K.V.
My initials.
She had created a timeline.
Each crime scene. Who arrived first. Who suggested follow-ups. Who pushed certain theories. My name appeared again and again. Not in a dramatic way. But consistently. Too consistently.
Beside it, she had written in pen:
Consistent proximity. Coincidence?
For the first time in years— I felt something close to being exposed.
She was close. Closer than Noah. Closer than Evan. Closer than anyone. But I did not freeze. I did not stiffen. I smiled.
"You think one of us is cursed?" I joked gently. She laughed. "Or extremely unlucky."
I leaned forward as if studying the paper more carefully.
"Patterns can trick you," I said calmly. "When you stare long enough, everything starts to connect." As I spoke, my hand rested casually on the edge of her file stack. I shifted my folder open slightly. One smooth motion. The comparison sheet slid underneath my case file. Not the whole pile. Not enough to be obvious. Just the page that connected me to repetition.
"You might be overthinking it," I added. "If this turns into internal suspicion without real proof, it'll create chaos."
She sighed. "Yeah… maybe you're right."
Maybe. She went back to her notes. I stepped away. Walking normally. Breathing evenly. Inside, calculations were already running. She would notice the missing page eventually. But she would doubt herself first. She would assume she misplaced it. She would try to rebuild it. That costs time. Time keeps me alive.
"Have you seen Noah?" I asked before leaving.
"With Evan," she said. "They're going over something together."
Together. Again. I nodded and walked out. No hesitation.
The plan shifted immediately. This was no longer about jealousy alone. This was containment. Rhea was thinking. Noah was stabilizing Evan. If both of them continued, the circle would close. So I would close it first.
I got into my car. No music. No distractions. I reviewed the quarry location in my head. An old site outside town. Isolated. Poor signal. Rare patrol presence. A few days ago, I had casually filed a request to revisit it regarding soil inconsistencies in one of the earlier cases. I plant reasons before I need them. That is why I survive.
But something stayed with me. Rhea's handwriting. My initials. That one word: Coincidence? No.
There are no coincidences. Only carelessness. And I am not careless. So I accelerated the plan.
Without delaying further, I sent Noah an anonymous message from a prepaid device. Short. Direct.
"I have what you're looking for."
No threats. No drama. Just bait. I made sure the wording would trigger him. Noah doesn't ignore leads. He especially doesn't ignore leads that could protect Evan. Within minutes, I saw the read receipt. He would reach out soon. He always moves fast when it comes to Evan. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. Sanity stayed with me. It always does. This isn't chaos. This is correction.
Noah Knox was my first friend. But he chose the wrong side. And if removing him is what it takes to have you... Then I will remove him. Cleanly... Quietly... Completely.