Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
He’s right, and I get to my feet just as quickly as I settled behind my desk. “Let’s go.”
Jay is smirking as he stands. “I take it you’re feeling better?”
“Yeah,” I wave off his concern. “It was probably just a bug or actual exhaustion. Crazy what a good night’s sleep will do for you.” I grab my jacket and make my way toward the door.
“Spare me the details,” he grumbles. As soon as we’re in the car, Jay shifts into drive and nods at me. “Background?”
Right. “Ezekiel DuBois goes by Zeke. He spent four and a half years at Hope House. No stints in juvie and no other worrisome behavior in his past.”
“That’s a change. Where are we heading?”
“He’s a gaming streamer, spends most days online, so I think it’s safe to say he’s probably at home.” I rattle off the address, leaving Jay to maneuver through traffic until we arrive at the ranch style home in a quiet neighborhood similar to mine.
“He plays games all day and can afford to live here?” Jay’s disbelief is palpable. “This ain’t your parent’s basement.”
“Nope, it’s not.” The house looks empty, like no one's home.
“You know he could be the killer, right, Frankie?”
I nod. “The thought crossed my mind, Jay.” It was actually my first thought, but as we walk up the steps to the front door, something feels weird. I can’t explain it, so I give myself a quick pep talk as we wait for Zeke to answer the door.
Focus on the interview, Frankie. It’ll get you one step closer to the killer. Nothing else but this interview. Right here. Right now.
Feeling slightly better, I recount what I know before the door opens, thinking about everything I hope to learn from this interview.
The door opens and a guy with long dark hair wrapped in a haphazard bun opens the door. His blue eyes big and wide against his pale skin, his thick brows seem exaggerated as they dip into a frown. “Yeah?” His gaze bounces between me and Jay, trying to figure out why two cops are on his doorstep.
“Ezekiel DuBois?”
He nods and a moment later, his shoulders relax slightly. “Call me Zeke. How can I help you, officers?”
“Detectives,” Jay clarifies. “We’ve got a few questions we’re hoping you can help with. Mind if we come in?”
He shrugs and steps back, letting us inside. “Questions about what?”
“Hope House,” I say casually, my eyes locked on him, watching for any flicker of a reaction that might give something away.
“What’s that?” he responds instantly, the lie slipping off his tongue with ease.
“The place you spent four and a half years of your life. Ring any bells?” Jay typically plays the bad cop, but I figure a gamer like Zeke can appreciate a woman who doesn’t hold back.
“Don’t remember much about the place,” he says in a much quieter tone.
“You familiar with Connor Donovan?”
He shrugs at Jay’s question.
I move in closer to Zeke, invading his space. “How about Ryder Beaumont? Gavin Kowalski? Tristan Dupont? Any of those names ring a bell?”
He shrugs again.
I shake my head and turn to Jay. “He doesn’t remember any of them. What are the odds?”
Jay smirks. “The odds are good that he’s our only suspect so far.”
“Hang on,” he growls. “Wait one fuckin’ minute. Suspect for what? Because I didn’t do shit.”
“Maybe,” I shrug. “Maybe not. But we have a bunch of dead bodies and right now you’re the only person alive that has any link to them.”
“Dead bodies. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You told the judge that Nolan Petrovic was the reason you passed biology and chemistry.”
He swallows hard and his eyes slide shut. “Yeah, okay, fine.” His shoulders fall and his tone is full of resignation. “I knew those guys back in the day, but I don’t know ’em now and I didn’t kill them or anybody else.”
Jay shakes his head, giving me a grave look as he drops down on the sofa. “That’s what I’d say too,” he says, more to himself than to Zeke.
“Look Zeke, I’ll level with you. We don’t actually think you killed anyone,” I lie. “You don’t fit the profile. But like my partner said, you’re the only living person we’ve tracked down with any connection to all our victims. At best, it’s merely suspicious. At worst? Well, you might find yourself on the wrong side of an interrogation room.”
His eyes go wide, and he mumbles to himself before yanking an energy drink from the fridge. “Want one?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“I’d love one, but the girlfriend says they’re not healthy.” Jay grumbles underneath his breath. Sometimes he loves being the good cop a little too much.
“What do you remember about Hope House?” That’s as good a place as any to start. Background information.
Zeke shrugs again. “What’s there to remember? I was a kid. The place was shithole run by deviants. If you made it out at all, you were lucky.”