Obsessed

Chapter 37

Mark’s black pickup pulled into the precinct parking lot fifteen minutes past their usual time. It wasn’t late enough to draw any serious attention, but it was enough for a few curious heads to turn as the pair stepped out.

Ronnie adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag and smoothed her blazer. Her platinum hair was pulled into a low bun, a few wisps framing her delicate features. The heels of her boots clicked softly against the pavement as she fell into step beside Mark, who locked the truck behind them with a sharp beep.

Neither of them said a word about the night before—not about the way their bodies had fit together like puzzle pieces, not about the way Mark had looked at her afterward like she was the first sunlight after years of war. They both knew better than to invite gossip, not here, not now.

But still, something between them had shifted—like the tension that had once hovered between them had melted into something deeper. Something more dangerous.

They entered the precinct side by side, moving through the morning bustle with practiced calm.

Ronnie offered a quiet smile and a nod to the receptionist, and Mark gave a curt wave to a rookie passing in the hallway. From the outside, it looked like any other morning.

Except Jackson noticed.

He was sitting at his desk, a half-eaten granola bar in one hand and his eyes tracking the two of them like a hawk. His brows twitched upward the moment they walked in. It wasn’t anything obvious—no hand-holding, no shared glances in front of others—but Jackson saw the difference in their body language. How both of them were more relaxed than usual.

The way Ronnie’s shoulder brushed Mark’s just a little longer than necessary.

The flicker of a smile that Mark suppressed when she passed behind him.

The barely-there touch of her fingers when she set a coffee mug next to his file.

He chewed slowly, smirking to himself.

Later, once the morning bustle died down and Mark was at his desk flipping through a stack of reports, Jackson leaned back in his chair and tilted his head just so. He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

Mark felt it before he saw it—the weight of Jackson’s stare.

He looked up, expression impassive. “What?”

Jackson’s grin spread lazily. “So… how’s the new roommate?”

Mark didn’t flinch. “Fine.”

Jackson lifted his brows, unconvinced. “That’s it? Just fine?”

Mark didn’t answer. He returned his gaze to the report in front of him and turned a page, as if the conversation wasn’t worth his time.

But Jackson didn’t relent.

“You know, you’ve always been a terrible liar.”

Mark sighed, “I’m not lying.”

“No,” Jackson said, dragging the word out. “You’re just not telling me everything.”

There was a beat of silence. The kind that buzzed between two people who knew each other too well.

Then Mark leaned slightly over his desk, voice low. “Keep it between us.”

Jackson’s grin split into a full-on chuckle. “Your secret’s safe with me, partner.”

He tossed the granola wrapper into the trash and leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s about damn time.”

Mark shot him a dry look.

“But,” Jackson added, his tone shifting slightly, “you sure that’s smart?”

Mark frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jackson looked around the bullpen before lowering his voice. “Every guy she’s been with—gone. Vanished. We’re talking about a serial killer who’s targeting anyone that gets close to her.”

Mark’s jaw clenched. “You think I don’t know that?”

Jackson held up his hands. “I’m not judging. I get it. I really do. She’s smart, gorgeous, brave as hell, but the guy’s been ten steps ahead since the beginning.”

Mark’s eyes darkened. “Let him try.”

Jackson studied his friend for a moment. “So you’re not afraid he’ll come after you?”

Mark shook his head once, firm and controlled. “I want him to.”

The finality in his voice silenced Jackson.

There was no bravado, no puffed-up pride. Just the cold steel of a man who had nothing left to lose and everything left to protect.

Jackson leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. “Well… let’s just hope we find him before he finds you.”

Mark didn’t answer.

But he didn’t have to.

The fire in his eyes said enough.

The Commissioner’s office was tucked behind double glass doors on the top floor of the precinct. It had an uninterrupted view of the city skyline through massive windows, but the current mood in the room made the view feel irrelevant.

Commissioner Reynolds stood behind his desk, arms folded, his salt-and-pepper beard twitching as his jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed, focused solely on Mark and Ronnie.

“You’re telling me,” Reynolds said, his voice measured and low, “that William Granger—Veronica’s stepfather and the man we thought was behind bars for multiple counts of abuse and s****l assault—has not only been out for five years, but is the serial killer we’ve been chasing?”

“Yes, sir,” Mark answered, his voice steady.

Ronnie stood beside him, her fingers laced tightly in her sleeves. Her knuckles were white, but her voice was calm.

“He’s the one who’s been targeting women that resemble me,” she added. “Blonde. Blue-eyed. Porcelain skin. All within a certain age range.”

Reynolds’ eyes flicked to her, and for a moment, the hardened man looked genuinely shaken. “How the hell did this happen?”

Mark pulled out the printed report from the earlier investigation. “Identity theft. William swapped places with a man named Peter Bennett. Peter is in prison under William’s name while William walked free using Peter’s. Somewhere along the line, the system glitched—or someone helped him glitch it. Either way, he got out.”

Ronnie took a deep breath. “Elise Smith wasn’t acting alone. He was just a pawn. From what we’ve gathered from Marina Chambers, the girl we rescued, William has been orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. Elise called him his ‘Master.’ He’s been grooming or manipulating people to act on his behalf.”

Reynolds ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. “Jesus Christ. This is bigger than we thought.”

Ronnie nodded. “Much. And I think there’s someone else involved. Someone we haven’t identified yet. Elise couldn’t have done all of this on his own. William needed help to find his victims, to stalk me this closely without getting caught. I’m beginning to think there’s another player on the board.”

Reynolds paced behind his desk, then finally sat down, steepling his fingers. “You think he’s coming after you directly now?”

“I know he is,” Mark said, eyes hard. “The photos. The packages. The stalker-level knowledge of Ronnie’s movements. He’s escalating.”

There was a long pause. The only sound in the room was the distant hum of a ceiling vent and the occasional click of Reynolds’ pen as he turned it in his fingers.

Finally, Reynolds leaned forward. “Alright. I’m assigning a 24-hour watch on you, Veronica. No exceptions.”

Ronnie’s eyes darted to Mark, then back to Reynolds. “I’m not going to stop working this case. You know that, right?”

Reynolds nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But I won’t have you walking into danger unprotected. You’ll have an escort if you’re not with Mark or Jackson.”

Mark straightened. “We’ll find him, sir.”

Ronnie stood, her resolve solidifying behind her eyes. “We’ll stop him. But we need every piece of information on William Granger. Every interaction he’s had in prison. Every visitor. Every letter. Every possible associate. If there’s a third person involved—we need to find them.”

Reynolds nodded and picked up his phone. “I’ll get you everything we have. In the meantime, stay alert. He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.”

Mark and Ronnie left the office in silence, but the moment the door shut behind them, the atmosphere between them shifted again—tension woven tightly with purpose.

He glanced over at her as they descended the stairwell together. “You okay?”

Ronnie nodded once. “Not scared. Just… tired of looking over my shoulder.”

Mark’s jaw flexed. “You won’t have to. Not with me around.”

Her hand brushed his lightly as they walked. A small touch, but enough.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m done being scared.”