His late-night emergencies typically had to deal with complications at one of his company’s overseas operations — an explosion in an oil field in the Middle East, a car bomb in Turkey, an attack on a camp in Sudan. Something that never truly hit close to home. It was different this time. The target wasn’t a government contractor doing a dangerous job he signed up to do. The victim was someone who, at one time, was family to him…to all of them.
He nodded, his gaze somber. A heaviness set in his chest, the weight of knowing this could have been prevented returning with a vengeance. For a brief moment, as he lost himself in the love and reverence of his wife, he found peace with his newfound knowledge of Mischa’s death. In Olivia’s arms, the tragedy and cruelty of the real world disappeared, even if for just a minute, and he would give anything to go back to that bubble.
“Who?” she pressed, a slight quiver in her chin as she searched his eyes for an answer she probably wasn’t prepared for.
With a heavy heart, he whispered, “Mischa Tate.”
Olivia closed her eyes, a short breath escaping her lungs. “Oh, Alex,” she murmured, shaking her head in a way that made him think she wasn’t surprised by the news. “How?” Craning her neck, she searched his eyes.
“I don’t know with any certainty. Dave called and asked me to come down to a fish processing plant in Southie, almost in Dorchester.”
“Southie?” Olivia asked, turning and handing him the cup of coffee that had finished brewing before preparing one for herself. She must have known by his tired, scratchy voice and barely open eyelids that he needed coffee like he needed air. “Why would Mischa be in Southie?”
He shook his head. “Last I heard, she had a townhome in Arlington.”
Olivia nodded. “It’s right down the street from Mo and Kiera’s new house,” she said, referring to two of her good friends.
Alexander scrunched his eyebrows. “You’ve been to Mischa’s?”
She spun around and opened the refrigerator door, searching for some milk. “I passed the street sign a few months ago when I went to see Kiera. I remember thinking I knew that street name for some reason, like I knew someone who lived there. It drove me crazy for weeks.” She closed the refrigerator door, poured milk into her mug, then raised it to her lips, leaning against the elaborate marble countertop. They had cost a small fortune, but Olivia had fallen in love with them. Alexander spared no expense when it came to his wife. “When I was putting together a list for our Christmas cards, I noticed Mischa’s address and saw it was that street.”
She smiled, her eyes looking everywhere but at Alexander. He tried not to think too much into it, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling that Olivia was hiding something from him.
“What was the cause of death?” she asked when he remained silent, studying her. When her eyes finally met his, he could tell she struggled to reel in her emotions. Mischa had been like a sister to them at one time, especially once Landon began working for the security company. It wasn’t until his death that they grew apart. Landon was the glue that bound them together. Alexander lost more than just one of the best friends and employees he ever had. He lost himself.
“Dave won’t know until they conduct the official autopsy, but based on the fact that she was beaten to death, stuffed into a barrel, then left somewhere in Southie, he thinks she may have been another victim of the Castle Island Killer.”
Olivia pulled her lips between her teeth. “Who?”
“Castle Island Killer. Apparently, it’s one of Dave’s open investigations. It’s been going on for the last month or so. Bodies have shown up in the South Boston area every few days, the first one around Castle Island. The victims cross every ethnicity, gender, and age group. There has been no common denominator in how his victims are chosen. The men are killed with a bullet to the head, and the women’s throats are slashed. All of the bodies are shoved into a barrel. This time…” He drew in a long breath. “Her face was barely recognizable from all the bruising and swelling.”
Olivia covered her mouth, a few tears falling down her cheeks.
“It most likely wasn’t a quick death. Mischa probably suffered for hours…” He trailed off, closing his eyes to regain his composure. It didn’t matter how much training he had undergone throughout his career. Nothing could prepare him, or anyone, for the death of a loved one. “There was no quick bullet to the head or slash to the throat. She probably fell in and out of consciousness for hours, maybe even days, as she fought against horrendous pain, her brain swollen from multiple blows to her head. Dave promised the second the medical examiner completes his autopsy report, he’ll provide a copy to me. Until then, it’s all just speculation based on an initial exam.”
Shaking her head, Olivia kept her mouth covered. “How awful,” she said in a small voice. She wiped at her cheeks as Alexander brought her into his arms, trying to offer her comfort. He would do anything to shelter her from such horror.
“Ugh! Are you two kissing again?” a sweet voice squeaked. Olivia pulled back slightly, but Alexander kept her close, lost in her eyes.
“We are, and you’re next, munchkin!”
After placing a kiss on Olivia’s lips, Alexander broke his hold and rushed toward Melanie, scooping her into his arms as she squealed with delight. He knew it was only a matter of time until she pushed him away and barely looked up from texting with her friends. Thankfully, today was not that day. He was still her fun dad who took her and her friends camping and taught them survival skills, much to Olivia’s dismay. Who took her to Hawaii when she showed an interest in learning to surf. Who made her pancakes every Saturday morning.
“Stop it!” Melanie squealed, her voice echoing in the cavernous kitchen. Runner’s barking only added to the ruckus.
Alexander needed this after the night he had. He needed to feel a sense of normalcy, a connection to the people he cared about most.
“Put me down!”
Her giggles warmed his heart. He hoisted her over his shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes. Her legs kicked, her laughter increasing.
“Dad! Stop! I’ll have Runner go after you!”
“That dog doesn’t even chase the cat these days,” he replied, spinning around, her brown curls flying. His eyes locked on Olivia’s as she shook her head, laughing.
“You’re going to make her sick, then you can clean it up.”
Grinning, he slowed his steps and lowered Melanie back to her feet, holding her steady while she regained her balance.
“Pancakes, Daddy?” she asked once she was no longer dizzy, her eyes hopeful.
“It’s Friday. A school day.”
“No, it isn’t!” she replied excitedly, jumping up and down. “It’s the first day of Christmas break!”
“Already?” He looked at Olivia, who just shrugged. He had been so busy at work, it didn’t even dawn on him it was just a week before Christmas. He wondered what else he had dropped the ball on. “When I was your age, we were in school up until the day before Christmas Eve.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Melanie joked, mimicking a mouth opening and closing with her hand. “And walked uphill both ways. In the snow.”
“Shoeless,” Olivia added, her voice light.
“With no cell phone!” Alexander smiled.
“What?” Melanie gasped. “You didn’t have a cell phone when you were growing up?”