Devil's Whisper Chapter 69: A Killer’s Confidence

Night had crept into the corners of Jason's office, held at bay only by the harsh fluorescent lights that cast unflattering shadows across his features. The day's exhaustive search for Sasha Paula had left its mark on him; the sharp angles of his face looked worn down, like stone weathered by persistent rain.

Scattered across his desk, reports rustled softly as he gathered them, each page another dead end, another false lead, another reminder of their failure to find her.

The overhead light hummed incessantly, an electric drone that seemed to underscore the tension in the room. Kate stood across from him, arms crossed tightly against her chest as if holding herself together. The familiar scent of coffee gone cold lingered in the air between them, remnants of cups drunk hours ago in their relentless pursuit of answers.

Jason glanced up, his eyes meeting Kate's.

"Kate," he said, one hand moving to rub his temple, a gesture she'd come to recognize as a sign of his mounting frustration. "Has Aussie sent over the translation of the quatrains from the Rubaiyat yet?"

Kate's frown deepened. "No, nothing so far. His phone's switched off, and I can't get through to him. It's like he's dropped off the grid."

Jason's lips compressed into a thin line as he leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. "If your friend's gone AWOL, we'll need to find someone else to do the translation. We don't have time to waste." The words came out harder than he intended, sharpened by exhaustion and concern.

Kate's posture stiffened visibly, her shoulders squaring as if preparing for battle. "I don't think that's a good idea," she countered, her tone taking on a defensive edge. "I trust Aussie. He knows how sensitive this is—he won't leak it to the media or anyone else. But another translator? There's no guarantee they'll keep their mouth shut."

The harsh lines of Jason's face softened marginally, though the strain remained evident in his voice. "I get it. But we can't sit around waiting, either. Track him down. Do whatever you need to. If we don't get that translation soon, we lose another lead."

Kate's reluctant nod was accompanied by a quiet "Alright." She turned toward the window, where streetlights flickered in the distance like earthbound stars. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped to a more contemplative tone.

"Jason, I think we should start reaching out to Sasha's friends. They might know something—anything—that could help us."

His eyes remained fixed on the papers before him, but his response was immediate, practiced. "I've already instructed Marlene to contact them all. She's thorough. If there's anything to uncover, we'll hear about it soon."

The tension in Kate's shoulders eased slightly, though her arms remained crossed, a defensive barrier against unseen threats. "That's good," she murmured, her mind clearly wandering down darker corridors of thought.

When her voice broke the silence again, it carried a note of uncertainty that made Jason's chest tighten. "You know, Jason... my parents and Ryder only received one warning letter. But Sasha got two. Why? Why would the killer single her out like that?"

Jason looked up finally, his expression darkening like storm clouds gathering. "Because he's a piece of shit," he said bluntly, the words cutting through the air like a blade. "He's playing a game, Kate. And he thinks he's untouchable. That's why he's getting bolder—why he's pushing things further."

Kate's brow furrowed deeper, her lips pressing together as she processed his words. "Still," she murmured, almost to herself, "it's strange. He must be confident to act this openly. Confident and... brilliant."

Jason's head snapped up so quickly it startled her. His eyes narrowed dangerously, voice dropping to a low, warning growl. "Brilliant?" The word hung between them like a challenge. "Kate, don't give him that. Don't romanticize what he's doing."

and familiar. He clenched his jaw, cursing inwardly as the sting of his own sharpness sank in. He always did this—snapped too quickly, let his temper flare—especially when it came to solving cases. It wasn’t just with Kate; he’d burned bridges with other partners too, his stubborn streak driving a wedge where collaboration should’ve thrived.

I’m a damn stubborn officer, he thought bitterly, the self-reproach gnawing at him as he stared at the scuffed surface of the desk. But this time, it wasn’t just his pride or his need to be right. He couldn’t stand hearing Kate call the murderer “smart,” couldn’t stomach the idea of her ascribing any kind of admiration to the monster they were hunting.

And deeper still, buried beneath layers of frustration, something else twisted in his chest—a quiet, selfish ache. He wanted her to turn that praise on him instead, to look at him with those steady eyes and say he’d done a great job, just once. Some days, he craved it more than he’d ever admit.

Was it arrogance driving him? Or was it Kate—her presence, her unshakable resolve, stirring something possessive in him he couldn’t quite name? Jealousy coiled tight in his gut, irrational and insistent, and he hated himself for it. He opened his mouth to apologize, to soften the edge he’d sharpened between them, but before the words could form, Kate cut through the silence.

"I'm not," Kate responded quickly, meeting his intense gaze without flinching. The determination in her eyes was familiar, a fire that had burned there since the day her parents were taken. "I just mean... you have to admit he's clever. He's thought this through. Every move, every letter—it's all calculated. I want to meet him."

Jason exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction as he studied her. He leaned forward too, mirroring her posture, his forearms resting heavily on the desk. The faint creak of his chair filled the pause, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter, steadier, laced with a promise that carried the weight of certainty. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his gaze holding hers with an intensity. “You’ll meet him soon enough. I’ll make sure of it.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken tensions and fears. Outside, a distant siren wailed through the night, its mournful cry seeming to echo the darkness of their thoughts.