Journeys paradox, p.1
Journey's Paradox, page 1
JOURNEY’S PARADOX
JOURNEY RUSSO SERIES: BOOK SIX
MARY STONE
AMY WILSON
Copyright © 2024 by Mary Stone Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For all the female college students working to make the world a better place — may you always stay safe as you strive to make a difference.
CONTENTS
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
What’s Next?
Series Reading Order
Have You Read My Other Series?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
DESCRIPTION
I spy with my little eye…
For the past two months, FBI Special Agent Journey Russo has had nothing to focus on except working with her therapist to heal the lingering trauma caused by the fire that claimed her family. Until back to school at a nearby university has her grappling with a different kind of tragedy.
Murder.
The victim, a sophomore at a small local college, was raped and stabbed in her first-floor apartment. Unfortunately, she’s not the first. The crime eerily echoes the death of another female student just two weeks before. Local police arrested the woman’s boyfriend. But if he was in jail, who committed the second crime?
Suddenly, what seemed like an open-and-shut case is far from it.
Both women attended the same university, were the same age, had several classes together, looked almost identical to each other, and were killed shortly after their date left their apartment. One homicide could be an isolated incident. Two deaths with similar modus operandi and signatures means more murders are imminent. Unless Journey can catch the killer roaming Mason University before he spills more blood.
School is back in session. And Journey’s Paradox, book six of the Journey Russo FBI series by bestselling author Mary Stone, will have you pulling an all-nighter.
1
Did that really just happen?
Kayla Farmer lay on her bed, her pulse still racing from the night’s unexpected turn. The faint scent of Will Holyfield lingered on her pillow, a potent reminder of the star quarterback who’d just left.
Giddy with excitement, she inhaled deeply, trying to imprint every detail of the moment into her memory—his broad, muscular shoulders, the way his green eyes had locked onto hers, and that unruly strand of red hair escaping from his messy bun.
We’d make really pretty babies.
Okay, maybe that was taking thing a little too far. Just because she’d been crushing on him since the first time she saw him didn’t mean he felt the same. Did it?
“Stop overthinking.”
She couldn’t help it though. Couldn’t believe it had actually happened. Will Holyfield, the guy every girl on campus fantasized about, had just left her bed. And it wasn’t just sex—it had been incredible. The kind that made her feel alive, every nerve in her body awakened.
Loved.
Kayla smiled. This was college life at its finest. No overbearing parents, no one to answer to…just pure, unfiltered freedom. And to top it all off, she’d just hooked up with the star of Mason University’s D1 football team.
The heat of his touch, the strength in his grip still lingered on her skin. The memory of it sent a thrill through her, one that even the noise from her neighbors couldn’t diminish. As the distant thump of music vibrated through the thin walls, Kayla tapped her foot along with the beat, replaying every moment of the night.
This was how you started a week—with a bang. And damn, did it feel good.
She’d never been the kind of girl who landed an athlete. They always seemed to go for the cheerleader type. Blond, preppy, skinny.
Dumb.
Kayla caught herself. That wasn’t fair. She had no reason to believe the girls on the cheerleading team weren’t little geniuses who thought about nuclear fusion between jumps and somersaults. She just hoped they weren’t. Life wouldn’t be fair if the beautiful girls were brainy too.
Not that Kayla thought of herself as unattractive. But she wasn’t blond or preppy or thin.
Curvy. That was the best compliment she could expect.
Kayla ran her palm over her belly. She’d long ago given up thoughts of trying to replace the slight wobble under her hand with a set of tight, athletic abs. All those diets, early morning runs, and disgusting shakes she’d tried through her teenage years had made no difference at all. Whenever she lost a pound, it came right back, sometimes with friends. She was at peace with her shape now.
Will certainly seemed fine with it.
Kayla smiled and sighed deeply, enjoying the breeze that came through the window.
She’d been crushing on him since last year. She just hadn’t thought he was interested. When they’d shared a class in the spring semester, he’d barely spoken to her. His eyes were on someone else. Arriving on campus for her sophomore year almost a month ago, she’d resolved to move on. It was never going to happen.
Which was why the night’s success had been so sudden and surprising. Will had jogged up to her in the hall last week—three weeks into the new year—and asked if she wanted to see a movie.
He’d even seemed nervous when he asked. Kayla pictured that look in his eyes as he tried to keep his voice even.
Lying in her bed, she thought about his bristles against her cheek. So rough and manly. She ran the back of her hand against her own soft skin.
They’d seen a classic romantic comedy at the art house theater in town. Not that she’d have refused if Will had wanted to see the superhero thing showing on the mainstream movie theater down the street. She’d have just yawned through the explosions and enjoyed Will’s company more than the show.
But the comedy had been funny and touching, and dinner afterward had been great too. Will had enjoyed the movie as much as she had. They’d talked about their favorite romantic comedies, recalled the scenes they loved the most, pitched each other weird meet-cutes, and as the conversation and laughter flowed, she knew the night was going to end on a high note.
Though she’d never admit it out loud, it was a comfort to be escorted around the town by someone so strong. After what happened to Stephanie Buchanan two weeks ago—found in her bedroom, stabbed to death—she’d been on edge.
She’d known Stephanie. They’d been classmates.
But Will certainly wasn’t your stereotypical meathead jock. If it wasn’t for the black t-shirt he wore, with the words Mason Football emblazoned on the front, he wouldn’t even look like a jock. With his hair bun, dark jeans, and white sneakers, he looked more like a hipster.
There was one weird moment, though, when they left the restaurant. She’d said she’d had a great night. But it was getting late, and she had class in the morning.
It wasn’t really that late. But Kayla had thought it was the right thing to do if she wanted to keep him interested.
The look in his eyes, and the sudden dramatic shift in his body language, told her she’d made a mistake. In an instant, he turned cold. And she got a feeling that, if the night did end, she’d never see him again.
So she invited him back to her place.
Kayla didn’t usually have sex on a first date. But, besides that one weird moment, their banter was flirtatious, and their hands had touched as he walked her home. Kayla’s roommate was at her boyfriend’s that evening, and it all just felt right.
When they got back to her apartment, he was very considerate too.
They’d watched an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer afterward, with her laptop propped up on his muscular thighs.
But when the show ended, with both of them having morning classes, he left.
Will had worn her out, so she turned off her bedside lamp, and the room fell into darkness.
She let out a little moan as she stretched and twisted, and that was when she saw a shadow rise in the gap between the curtains.
Kayla stiffened. What happened to Stephanie flashed through her mind. But they’d caught someone for her murder, hadn’t they?
She wasn’t sure what she’d seen. Her room was on the ground floor, and occasionally a cat would wander past the building, or raccoons would s nuffle by on their way toward the garbage cans.
But she usually heard them, not saw them.
The curtain rustled. Something thumped inside the room, through the open window.
She sat up, stock-still as she watched the shadow grow into a tall, thick man.
Kayla bolted out of bed and opened her mouth to scream her lungs out so that her neighbors playing the music would hear it and call the police. But the shadow man rushed her, and his hand landed on her face, covering her mouth before she got the chance.
Something sharp just teased her jaw. The edge of a blade.
The shadow whispered, “Don’t move, or I’ll kill you now.”
Kayla froze. Every time she’d imagined a moment like this, she fought like a ninja, crippling her attacker and dealing out the beating he deserved.
But now, she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t even cry. Kayla was paralyzed with fear.
Her assailant released his grip and let her fall back onto the bed.
She just lay there, wishing she were somewhere else. Anywhere else. Home.
Yes, she was at home. Surrounded by her childhood things, with her parents downstairs protecting the house.
She convinced herself she was safe someplace back in time.
The shadow whispered again, “You broke my heart, bitch. Now I’m going to break yours.”
Kayla couldn’t imagine how he could possibly do that, until she saw the silver blade plunging toward her chest.
2
Glancing at an encroaching hand out of the corner of her eye, FBI Special Agent Journey Russo knew she could deliver a hard slap when she needed to. She was driving, and if he thought he was going to get away with it, he had another think coming.
The movement of the fingers wasn’t much, no more than a small twitch, then another, and then a flick of the index finger. But that was all followed by a slow rub on the outside of the thigh, and Journey braced herself for what she knew was coming.
After a beat, his arm rose toward the car stereo, and that was when Journey brought her hand down hard.
The whack across Lucas’s knuckles sounded like the crack of a bullwhip.
“Ow!”
Her colleague shook the pain out of his hand as Journey returned hers to the steering wheel of the Bureau-issue Ford Explorer. “I told you not to touch my playlist. I drive, I choose the music. That’s how it works. Or did you forget?”
Special Agent Lucas Sullivan grimaced. “But Lana Del Rey? Really?”
“Lana is amazing.”
Journey did like Lana Del Rey, but mostly, she liked the fact that Lucas didn’t. There were only three of her songs on her road trip playlist, but each one made Lucas squirm in his seat. She was so happy to be back in action after so long away.
He rubbed his knuckles. “Whiner Del Rey more like. Maybe I should—”
A peal of bells cut through the chorus of “Video Games.” Journey’s ringtone.
Lucas grinned. “Saved by bells. Amazing.”
He reached for the dashboard and held one finger an inch from the screen.
Journey faked a pout. “Go ahead.”
He took the call. The singer faded away and was replaced by the rougher voice of their boss, Supervisory Special Agent Victoria Keller.
“You two on your way to Mason?”
Journey checked the GPS. “We’re about twenty minutes out. You got anything more for us?”
SSA Keller had told them to head to the college town ninety minutes east of Pittsburgh that morning, where local police needed help with a murder investigation. They didn’t know much except that the victim was a student, and she might not have been the first.
A little over two months had passed since the Violent Crime Unit of the FBI’s Pittsburgh headquarters had gotten a truly interesting case. And while Journey had enjoyed the slow summer, she was ready to get back into the field.
Even if getting back into the field meant that a horrible crime had been committed.
Keller’s voice filled the car again. “Not much. Victim’s name is Kayla Farmer. Nineteen years old. A sophomore at Mason University. Case looks a lot like a murder that took place a couple of weeks ago in the same area. Stephanie Buchanan.”
Shit. Journey wanted an interesting case, but a serial killer hunting young women made her sick.
“Both victims were raped in apartments they shared with roommates,” anger had hardened Keller’s voice even more, “before they were murdered.”
Journey’s stomach tied itself into a small knot. Whoever did this, that person was a serious criminal. They’d need to catch him—or them—fast. A single victim could’ve been a one-off. Two deaths with similar modus operandi and signatures meant there might be more murders on the way.
Lucas broke the silence. “The cops pick up anything from the first victim?”
“Not anything. Someone. They arrested Stephanie Buchanan’s boyfriend, a kid called Glenn Angus. His DNA was all over the scene, he had no alibi, and the two were seen fighting by several witnesses. Plus some nasty text messages between them. They charged him, and they’re holding him in custody. Thought they had an open-and-shut case. Until this morning.”
“But why call us? Not like the cops to ask the FBI to clean up their mess.” Journey flicked on her blinker and changed lanes. “The two cases, while similar, might not even be related.”
“They’re under pressure. Kayla Farmer’s dad is Judge Henry Farmer. He sits in the district court, and the cops really don’t want to get on the wrong side of him. They need to show they’re pulling out all the stops.” Papers rustled on Keller’s end of the line. “Anyhow, that’s all I know so far.”
“Got it.” Journey didn’t like it. The local cops were using the FBI as window dressing to please a judge. But at least she’d get to right a wrong. That went some way toward forgiving the local police and their political shenanigans. Administering justice was always a special kind of pleasure. “We’ll keep you informed.”
Lucas ended the call, and Lana Del Rey returned. Journey waited for him to make a rude comment. None came.
“What’s on your mind?”
Lucas pushed back his hair. He had thick, black waves that he often slicked down like a James Dean fanboy. The style made him appear younger than his thirty-eight years, but it probably took half an hour to get it right in the morning. “Mason University. You know it?”
Journey nodded. “Yeah, I know Mason. My parents met there.” For that, Mason University would always have a special place in her heart.
She didn’t know much else about the school. Her parents hadn’t been particularly active alumni, nor had they tuned in religiously to Mason’s football games on Saturdays in the fall. And she’d never even been on campus.
She wondered now whether the friends they’d helped flee The Chosen, a criminal cult, had been old college buddies. They’d been about the same age. The Chosen had burned Journey’s family to death in their home. The friends were never seen again.
“Really? Did they like it?”
“They didn’t talk about it much. Maybe I’d have heard more about it if I’d been older when they…you know. College wasn’t really on my mind when I was thirteen.”
“Yeah, right. Fair enough.” Lucas turned away. “Sorry.”
Journey hadn’t meant to make him feel bad. She didn’t like talking about her parents. But with Lucas, she could make an exception. “Actually, one of the few photos I have of my parents was taken when they were in college. But why do you ask?”
Lucas settled into his seat again. “Hallie. She is starting to think about college.”
“Already?” Journey grinned. Lucas’s daughter was only fifteen, but it sounded like she was looking forward to moving out and leading her own life.
“Yeah. Weird, right?”
“They grow up so fast.”
“Tell me about it.” He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Anyway, she’s mentioned Mason University as a place she’s considering. Says it’s close enough to come home regularly but far enough to be independent.”
“Sounds right. Smart kid. She gets to party all week, and you and Serena get to keep doing her laundry.”
“Ha.” Lucas’s voice fell. “I guess.”
