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)
I shrug. “I was already here.”
Minutes later, Jay arrives out of breath with his brows furrowed into their usual scowl. “What’s up, Doc?”
“I have a body I want you to check out.”
My ears perk up and I step forward when he leads us to a table with a body draped in a sheet. “Why?”
“That’s the thing,” he sighs. “It’s a ligature strangulation, which is off brand for your serial but then I found this.” He shows us a few photos where his gloved hands pull the lips apart to show off a thick white substance on the inside of the lips. “Glue.”
“Shit,” Jay growls. “When did you find this body?”
“It wasn’t found, not exactly.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Jay asks impatiently.
“The guy was on a cruise. Elegant Luxury Excursions put up a fight and it took a few days for the body to get released.” Chris peels back the white sheet.
Bile rises in my throat. I recognize the dead body instantly because I’ve seen him before. It’s the loud man from the cruise and a sinking sensation takes over. This isn’t just about the man on the table, this is about me, but more than that it’s about Damien. The killer wants me to know that he can get to me, to Damien, whenever he wants.
“What’s his name?” Jay’s gruff question pulls me from my thoughts, and I take a closer look at the victim. An ugly purple line is slashed around his throat.
“Is there any DNA from the killer?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Chris offers with a sympathetic smile.
“How is that possible? You can always count on a few cells with a strangulation.”
“Usually, yes,” he agrees. “But it looks like a blitz attack from behind. The ligature is perfect around the front with a slight tilt upward, which indicates he was attacked from behind. No time to defend himself. No defensive wounds.”
“Who found him?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Girlfriend was on the yacht with him and wife came in earlier to identify the body.”
“What a fucking mess,” Jay growls.
“Yep. I think Adrian Sharma might be one of the serial’s victims.”
“Sharma.” I say the name to myself a few times, wondering why it sounds so familiar since it’s an uncommon name. I pull out my phone, going through the list of perps and victims on my current roster of cases.
“Frankie, what’s going on?”
I ignore Jay because I know exactly why the name is familiar. I pull up the photos we got from Zeke, and I freeze.
“Frankie, are we interrupting you?”
“Yeah. No.” I look up and shake my head, confusion winding its way through my body before it turns to fear. Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not now. “I have to go. Thank you, Chris.” I turn on my heels and rush through the doors, eager to get to Damien. We need to talk, and I won’t be put off any longer.
“Dammit, Frankie,” Jay calls after me. “If you keep running off like this, we’ll have a morgue full of victims and no perp.”
He’s right. I stop and turn to face him, holding up my phone even though he’s too far away to make anything of the image. “Adrian Sharma spent time at Hope House. He’s in the photos Zeke gave us.”
All the blood drains from Jay’s face. “Oh, shit. You gonna talk to lover boy?”
I nod silently and take off, breaking several speed laws in my rush to the penthouse. I don’t mention seeing Adrian on the cruise to Jay. It’s a distraction I can’t afford right now.
“Damien!” I call as I step inside. The lights are on, so I know he’s home. “Damien!”
He appears in the doorway, his smile fading. “Francesca. You’re home early.”
“Yeah,” I say, hands shaking. “We need to talk.”
His brow furrows. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, something is seriously wrong!”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.” My voice trembles under the weight of my worry. “I’m terrified your name is on someone’s kill list, and you refuse to do anything to save your life!”
“Frankie,” he begins, but I cut him off.
“No. I’ve let you get away with your excuses for too fucking long, but you know what I saw today, Damien?” I don’t wait for him to respond. “The obnoxious prick from the cruise showed up on the ME’s table.”
He shakes his head, crossing his arms across his chest. “Francesca.”
I set my bag down and toss out the photo I showed him earlier of him and the other kids from Hope House. “I knew his last name sounded familiar because Zeke, the other victim from Hope House, gave us these photos and the names he could remember. Adrian Sharma.”
His gaze lands on the photo, scanning each face.
“They look familiar, don’t they?”
“No.” He lies about this so easily, so effortlessly, and it’s starting to piss me off.