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 stands, but Jay puts a hand on his shoulder. “You said—”
“You’re not in trouble,” I rush to remind him. “But we’re going to need your help to identify everyone. Can you do that for us, Zeke? We’d really like to make more progress before we get called to another crime scene.”
He’s unconvinced. “I don’t wanna get involved.”
“You’re already involved,” Jay tells him. “If you don’t end up a victim, you might be one of the few people who can tell us who might be a suspect.”
“What about the girls?” I ask as I start removing photos and placing them on the copier. “Since all the victims so far are male, maybe it’s one of them?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t ever talk to the girls.”
“Okay. How about you help us put a name to the faces and if you remember anything else, you can just call?”
“Yeah. Fine.” His shoulders droop forward before he drops back down into the chair before sliding it across the room to the table where Jay is laying out the copies of each photo. “I’m not sure of most of their last names. We didn’t really do last names, just how we ended up in Hope House.”
I nod my understanding, knowing that if not for Jay I might have ended up in a similar place. “What’s your story?”
He shrugs. “Junkie mom overdosed, and rich John didn’t want a bastard kid, so I went into the system. Here I am now.”
“Ah, fuck, kid.” Jay’s shaking his head about to bubble over with sympathy.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He points out our first three victims using only their first names.
“You know,” I say as I lay three more photos in front of him. “Just because he didn’t want to raise you back then doesn’t mean you’re not entitled to something for being his kid.” I would love to see that asshole’s expression when his past comes knocking on his door.
“Yeah, maybe. That’s Jane. She was sweet but quiet, mostly kept her nose in a book.” His smile is small, but it’s enough to say he has fond memories of Jane. “And that’s Layla and Tristan.”
Tristan is another one of our dead bodies. “Any idea where Layla ended up?”
“Nah, but her last name was Gonzalez or Sanchez, something with two last names.”
“Thanks, that’s helpful, Zeke.”
He blushes but doesn’t respond. “That’s Mike. Jane’s brother.” He points to a photo of a fresh-faced kid with hazel eyes that blaze golden in the California sun. Hazel eyes that seem oddly familiar.
Jay points at the image. “You sure that’s Mike?” His gaze slides at me so quickly Zeke might have missed it, but I didn’t.
He sees what I see.
“Yeah sure, I mean I didn’t know him by any other name.”
Jay sighs and leans back in his chair. “Thanks for coming down here, Zeke. I know you didn’t have to and it’s probably the last thing you want but we really need to find this killer.”
“Yeah sure. You really think this guy might come after me?”
Jay’s about to nod so I jump in. “Only if he or she thinks you know why these guys are all dead.”
He looks away again and I know he knows something, but I can’t force him to talk. “I’m ready to go.”
Jay stands. “I’ll walk you out.” He gives me a pointed look that I ignore because there’s something far more interesting that has my attention.
This photo. That dark hair and those eyes are dead giveaways. He’s younger in this photo, but the flutter in my belly that only happens when Damien is around is telling me that this is him. Or a twin brother? Unlikely, but my mind is racing with possibilities to make what I’m seeing make sense.
It’s not just his photo that I’m fascinated with, though, it’s all of them. The victims on my board are nothing but dead bodies to me, but here in these photos they’re alive and young, full of hope for the future. At least I hope they are. “What happened there?” I’m more positive than ever that something happened inside Hope House and that something is why these men are all dead.
Why now, though?
That’s another missing piece of the puzzle and I stand, taking the photo of Mike with me to the board where I write “WHY” in block letters. If we know what happened, then we’ll know why these guys were murdered and that’ll lead us right to who is murdering them.
“Good,” Jay grunts as soon as he enters the room and catches me staring at the photo of Mike. “You see it too.”
I look up. “What are you talking about?” It’s a terrible fucking lie and we both know it.
Jay rolls his eyes and he’s like a dog with a bone. I know he’s not going to let this go. He’s too good of a cop and man to drop this. “Lover boy.” He stabs at the photo with his finger. “I know you see it, Frankie. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, okay?”