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)
Namely, Jay on his way to the penthouse, so I take a quick shower and dress in one of my standard suits complete with a silky camisole and a gray blazer and pants set. Jay has a lot to say about every fucking thing and I’m in no mood, but the minute I slide into the passenger seat, he’s ready to pounce. “Morning,” I grunt.
“Are you finally ready to see things clearly or do you plan to take another vacation to lie to yourself?” Jay is his usually grumpy self, but it hits me harder than usual.
“Back off, Jay. I haven’t had enough coffee this morning.” I mean it, but I know him well enough to know that’s never going to happen.
“You’re too close to this shit to see it clearly, Frankie. I’m not trying to be harsh, but it’s true. Let me talk to Damien.”
“No,” I bark instinctively.
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m serious. The very least he can do is point us in the right direction to let us know who might be doing this and why. The fact that he won’t is suspicious.”
He’s right but his suspicion isn’t what’s important. I’m worried about Damien and his reluctance to admit that he’s Michael is pissing me off and making me worry.
“Frankie, listen to me. Have you considered that maybe your boyfriend is on the kill list?”
I nod. “Of course it’s occurred to me. It’s the whole fucking reason I agreed to another getaway in the middle of a potential serial killer case. But something got in the way of that, and we came home early.” I don’t tell him what happened, and I don’t plan to because it would only fuel his mistrust of Damien, which isn’t getting us any closer to the truth. “Where are we heading anyway?”
“Crime scene,” Jay grunts. “Friend of the vic showed up when he didn’t answer calls and missed some sort of standing card game.”
As we approach our destination, I sit up straighter, my brow furrowing. “Wait, isn’t this DuBois’ house?”
“Yep,” Jay confirms, his expression grim.
“You knew. You didn’t say anything,” I hiss.
“Nothing to say,” Jay shoots back, his eyes darting away from mine.
“Bullshit. What are you trying to prove?” My heart races, frustration surges through me like electricity.
He stops before we step inside. “This could’ve easily been lover boy, but you refuse to confront the goddamn truth.” He shakes his head, disappointment and exasperation flashing across his face.
“Jay, you don’t understand—”
“Yes, I do,” he interjects, his tone sharp. “He’s lying to you, and you’re not even curious about why.”
His words are like a slap in my face that makes my stomach turn. There is, I’m sure, a perfectly reasonable explanation to all of this, namely that Damien probably doesn’t want the world to know he was in foster care.
His image is very important to him, but what I can’t figure out is why he’d risk his life to keep that information secret. “Let’s just get to the crime scene.”
“Body first,” he grunts and heads to the kitchen where we’d been questioning Zeke DuBois just a few days ago about his time at Hope House.
Zeke’s body is face up with his eyes wide open and his lips closed, likely glued shut, and his throat is slit. “Where’s the blood?” It’s messy business, slitting a throat, yet the kitchen is clean.
“Upstairs is the primary crime scene,” one of the uniformed officers protecting the scene calls out.
I crouch down to get a closer look at Zeke, the way his face appears to be frozen in fear. “Who did this to you?” I whisper to no one, wondering if he knew his killer, if it was someone in those photographs. I slip my hands into a pair of gloves and test my theory about the glue, tugging on his bottom lip to see if his mouth would open easily. “Mouth is glued shut.”
“As if there was any doubt that this was our guy. Zeke was the clearest connection we had, and now he’s dead.” Jay folds his arms over his chest, glaring down at the body angrily. “We should’ve put him in protective custody.”
“On what basis? The brass would have never agreed to use resources on the flimsy connection we have.” If Zeke had told us what he knew about the other victims, we might’ve been able to swing it. “His refusal to tell us what this could be about is why this happened.” Shit. That’s it. “He might not have been involved in whatever this is about, but he knew and that’s why he's dead.” It’s all coming together but it still doesn’t get us closer to the who, which is what we really need to know.
“You think he knew who it was before he got killed?”
I nod. “I got the impression he knew something. He was surprised but not as surprised as he should have been.” I should’ve seen it sooner, dammit. “I can see it clearly now.”