𝘀𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗼 '𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿' book 2 of 3
on the outside, looking in, bianca prescott was back to who everyone knew her as- kook princess, island royalty, who couldn't give less of a fuck about the pogues like they were poo on her jimmy choo's.
b...
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The island of Outer Banks had a problem. A problem in which locals went missing, disappearing off the face of the earth only to return, washed up at shore with a bloated belly of sea-water and skin so wrinkly-pale it was barely recognisable. It happened to Big John Routledge, Scooter Grubbs and now, it was going to happen to Gavin Barnstead, Bianca was sure of it.
Her mind whirled with what could've been. Like if she'd allowed Kiara to call the police when she wanted or if the cops had showed up to the scene earlier or if she hadn't scared Gavin into bargaining for more money, maybe he wouldn't have lost his life. But entertaining such thoughts was like playing with fire and if Bianca spiralled anymore she knew she'd be drowning in the gut wrenching guilt of being responsible for the pilot's murder.
Because that's the thing about 'what if's'. They don't matter. They don't change anything. All they did was make it harder to heal. JJ had taught her that once upon a time and so she wouldn't allow herself to dwell upon such thoughts any longer. Instead she remained quiet, listening intently to Kiara recount the story to Shoupe at the site of the shooting.
"Look, it was right here, and this is where those maniacs claimed their next victim- right there!"
"Uh huh," Shoupe raised both his eyebrows at the Carrera girl, tapping a pen against the notepad. "His next victim?"
"Yeah," Kiara nodded fervently, ignoring the sirens blaring below the scaffolding.
"Right," Shoupe scoffed lowly, glancing between the four of them. "How long ago did you say it happened?"
"Forty-five minutes ago, Shoupe," JJ straightened from his crouched position on the floor. His eyes narrowed at the concrete spot where he'd sworn he saw Gavin fall to the ground. Surely, there should have been a blood stain, a sign of struggle– anything. But it was as if the scene hadn't happened at all.
It was enough to have one serial killer on this island, but now they had two running rampant and in kahoots with each other. The Pogues had no doubt in their mind that while the deputies were scrambling to get their shit together, both Ward and Michael had cleaned up the crime and vanished without a trace.
"Okay," The interim Sheriff drawled, scribbling down on his notepad before huffing out an exasperated breath. "So, Ward Cameron fought the man and then Michael Prescott just popped one off and shot him?"
"Yes," Kiara let out breathlessly, her lips curled in a mixture of disgust and fear.
"Execution style?" Shoupe spoke almost mockingly, flashes of red and blue from the police cars below reflecting on his face. "And then cleaned it all up in 45 minutes?"
