Obsessed

Chapter 9

Ronnie stood in the dimly lit hallway of the precinct, cradling her phone to her ear with one hand, the other fidgeting with the edge of her blazer sleeve. She could hear the muffled hum of chatter and movement from the bullpen behind her, but her focus was on the call.

"Hey, it's me," she said softly into the phone, her voice laced with exhaustion.

“Ronnie? You okay?” Marvin's voice was immediate, alert—worried but familiar.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just... work’s a mess right now. I was wondering if you and Gale could come pick up Theo from school and maybe keep him for the night?” she asked, glancing toward the squad room where Mark and Jackson were reviewing files.

“Of course. No hesitation needed. You know that,” Marvin replied, no pause between his words.

“I hate asking. I know it’s last minute.”

“Ronnie, don’t,” he said gently. “We’ll pick him up, take him to the house. He can help Gale bake. You just focus on whatever this mess is.”

Ronnie swallowed hard. “Thank you, Uncle Marvin.”

There was a small pause before Marvin’s voice softened even further. “You sound tired, sweetheart. You want us to bring you dinner later?”

She let out a tired chuckle. “No, I’ll be okay. Just tell Theo I’ll call him before bed.”

“We’ll make sure he knows. Be safe, baby girl.”

She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket, composing herself with a steadying breath before turning back into the room.

Mark looked up from the files and immediately noticed the tightness in her shoulders. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. I called my uncles. They’re picking up Theo from school and keeping him for the night.”

Jackson raised a brow, “You got uncles nearby?”

Ronnie nodded. “Marvin’s my mom’s brother. He and his husband Gale basically raised me. They’re the only family I’ve got that actually give a damn.”

Mark’s expression softened. He could see the way her jaw tightened even as she tried to keep her tone casual. He didn't push further. He just nodded once in understanding.

“We should go talk to the girl,” Ronnie said, switching gears. “She might be able to tell us something. Even if it’s small. A sound, a smell, something.”

Jackson grabbed his jacket. “Lets go then.”

--------------------------

The hospital hallway was stark, humming with fluorescent lights and the occasional beep of a heart monitor. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air. Mark held the door open as Ronnie and Jackson followed him into the recovery wing, where a young girl lay propped up against a stack of pillows.

Marina Chambers. Blonde. Big, frightened eyes that still shimmered with tears, despite the nurses’ best efforts to comfort her.

When Mark stepped inside, Marina’s face lit up instantly.

“You...” Her voice cracked as she smiled. “You’re the one who found me.”

Mark gave a soft nod, his tone gentle. “That’s right. You’re safe now.”

Ronnie offered a reassuring smile and sat on the chair beside her bed, careful not to move too quickly. “Hi, Marina. I’m Dr. Veronica Summers. I work with the police department. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”

Marina nodded.

“I know this might be hard,” Ronnie said softly, “but anything you remember could help us.”

Marina pulled the thin blanket up over her chest, her hands trembling. “I never saw his face... the old one. The one who kept talking about his ‘angel.’ He kept me blindfolded. But his voice—” She shivered violently. “I’ll never forget that voice.”

Ronnie reached into a file folder and pulled out a photograph of Elise Smith, sliding it onto the bedside tray. “Do you recognize this man?”

Marina stared for a long second. Her face stiffened.

“Him,” she whispered. “He was weird. Really weird. Sometimes he was... like a kid. He’d hum lullabies and give me candy. But then—” Her voice dropped to a frightened rasp. “Then he would change. He’d grab me. Say sick things. What he’d do if his master let him ‘have me.’ He said I was special... like his other angels.”

Ronnie swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice cracking despite her professionalism. “Did either of them... hurt you? That way?”

Marina looked up at her with tearful eyes and shook her head. “No. Not yet. But they were going to. I could feel it.” She turned her gaze toward Mark, her voice breaking. “Until you saved me.”

Mark’s jaw clenched, the weight of her words settling into his chest like cement.

“Thank you, Marina,” Ronnie said gently, placing a hand over the girl’s. “You’re incredibly brave.”

Outside the room, Mark and Jackson gave her space to gather herself. Ronnie stood a few feet from the door, flipping through Marina’s medical chart. Her eyes scanned down the diagnosis section—and stopped.

“Autism Spectrum Disorder,” she murmured, tapping her thumb against the clipboard.

Mark, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, noticed the intensity in her expression. “You thinking something?”

“I don’t know yet,” Ronnie replied, eyes still locked on the file. “Do we have the medical records for the other victims?”

Mark nodded. “Back at the station. We kept everything.”

“Can I see them?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s head back.”

The sun was dipping low by the time Mark’s truck rumbled down the highway, orange light streaking through the windshield. Jackson lounged in the backseat, legs spread wide, scrolling on his phone. Ronnie sat in the passenger seat, one hand fiddling with the sleeve of her blazer, lost in thought.

“You know,” Jackson said, breaking the silence, “you should come out for a drink tonight, Ronnie. The whole precinct’s going. You’ve earned it.”

Ronnie blinked, then glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “I don’t know...”

“C’mon,” he grinned. “You’ll have fun. Everyone’s going to be there. It’s a good way to decompress... and get to know us.”

Ronnie bit her lower lip, clearly unsure.

Mark didn’t say anything, but his fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

She hesitated, then glanced at Mark from the corner of her eye. “Are you going?”

He shrugged. “Might stop in. Have a beer or two.”

Ronnie gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll check it out. Theo’s with our uncles, so... I’ve got the night.”

Jackson perked up. “Wait, you’ve got a kid?”

Before Ronnie could answer, Mark spoke up without looking away from the road. “Her little brother. She’s raising him.”

Jackson looked between them, eyebrows raised. “Huh. Didn’t know you knew that.”

Mark’s lips barely twitched. “I pay attention.”

Back at the precinct, the halls were quieter. The air buzzed with the scent of cheap coffee and the faint aroma of printer toner. Mark led Ronnie to the record room, unlocking the cabinet and pulling out a thick folder stacked with case notes and coroner reports.

He handed it to her without a word.

Ronnie dropped into one of the chairs at the long table, the old vinyl squeaking beneath her as she opened the folder and began scanning page after page. Names. Faces. Medical records. Victim profiles.

Fingers danced across documents as her brows furrowed deeper.

Then her breath caught.

She flipped back a page. Then another. Her eyes narrowed, posture stiffening. “Strange.”

Mark stepped closer to peer over her shoulder leaning with one hand on the table, the scent of his cologne washing over her. It was warm—earthy—and mixed with the faintest trace of cigarettes. Not the acrid kind, but something aged, familiar. Ronnie closed her eyes for a moment. It was grounding. Dangerous.

She cleared her throat and forced her attention back to the files. “All of them,” she said, tapping the pages. “Every single one of these girls was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder.”

Mark rubbed his beard, mind working through the implications. “You think that’s why they were targeted?”

Ronnie nodded slowly. “Maybe not the only reason, but... it can’t be a coincidence.”

Mark pushed off the edge of the table. “Then we missed something. We need to go back to that warehouse. There was one door we couldn’t get open. Maybe there’s more behind it.”