Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Here’s fine.”
“Right,” Gabe said. He had run directly into a brick wall. Gabe had looked into him, he told me everything he found on him. I stared at Mason, tried reading him like one of the books I would write, making a character summary of him: mid-twenties, dark and broody, sunflowers and penguins always make him smile. Had a rough start to life but was making a good life for himself now, working through getting a college degree. Gabe mentioned that his social media presence did seem to taper off over the last couple of years, with his most recent photo just a blurry shot of some food he took five months ago. Still, that wasn’t entirely odd. Plenty of people stopped using their social media.
But where did being a serial killer fit into any of that?
“We came to ask you some questions. I’m Detective Gabriel Fernandez with Stonewall Investigations, and this is Tristan, my associate.”
Nice. Vague enough to mean anything.
Mason’s nostrils flared. He started to shift backward. Was that fear in his blown out pupils? “I don’t speak to the cops.”
“We’re not cops,” Gabriel said. “I work on my own.”
“Didn’t you just say he’s your associate?” Mason pointed at me.
“Still not cops,” I reiterated and sat up a little straighter. He had sharp green eyes, and they seemed to try to be figuring me out.
“What is this about?”
“The Midnight Chemist,” Gabe said. I could see an immediate shift in Mason’s demeanor. His pupils exploded, his hands fisted. A vein in his forehead throbbed against his tan skin. “We found your phone, along with the phones of all his past victims. How’d your phone get there, Mason?”
He blinked, searched for words. He reached for his phone, but Gabriel took it back. “How’d it get there?”
Mason’s sharp eyes were dulled now. Shaken. “I’m—I—fuck. Let’s go to the courtyard. Kass, watch my spot for me?”
“You got it,” she said, rubbing his shoulder as Mason walked out through a gap in the bar. He didn’t even look back to see if we followed him, winding through the packed tables and into a dim hallway, toward a heavy red door. He pushed it open with a shoulder, sunlight pouring in. Outside was a small and mostly empty courtyard, the bubbling sound of a fountain mixing with the chirping birds that flitted between the trees. The hotel towered up toward the slightly cloudy sky, a small path leading out toward the street.
“Where was my phone?” Mason asked as we sat at an empty table.
“It was found somewhere we know the Midnight Chemist had been,” Gabriel said. I could tell he didn’t want to give out any unnecessary details. “So it is yours?”
“It’s mine.” He swallowed and rubbed at his face. “Please. I think I still have voicemails on there. I need to hear them.”
I cocked my head. Voicemails? Gabriel looked hesitant, but Mason was close to tears. “Is this about Grayson?” I asked, immediately connecting the emotional dots.
He nodded. “I saved his voicemails after he died. Then I lost my phone and felt like I lost him all over again.”
“How did you lose it?” Gabriel asked, still holding on to the phone.
His next words nearly knocked me out of my chair. “I think it happened the night I slept with the Midnight Chemist.”
24
GABRIEL FERNANDEZ
I kept the surprise from appearing on my face as Mason described to us the night he met up with the Midnight Chemist.
“Grayson and I are—were—open,” he started off, stopping to chew on a nail. “I was talking to this guy off Grindr. His account name was fish something. I can’t really remember it—I blocked him after that night so he never showed back up on my grid.”
“Do you mind if I record this conversation?” I asked.
Mason narrowed his eyes. He looked down at my phone, now on the center of the small round table. “I don’t know if I’m good with that, actually.”
“It’s okay,” I said, grabbing my phone back. “Would you feel better if Tristan and I just took some notes?”
Mason took a deep breath. His eyes darted around the courtyard. He was clearly nervous about something, and it didn’t seem to be just about the Chemist.
I had to be careful here. Mason clearly had information, but he didn’t seem all that willing to give it up. I had to be sure I didn’t spook him. Had to reassure him somehow that we were on his side.
For now.
“Here,” I said, taking out his phone and placing it on the same spot mine had been. “We’ll give this back to you. Just tell us everything you know.”
His eyes jumped from me to Tristan to the phone. He reached for the phone, and this time, I didn’t snatch it away from him. He clutched it in both hands, looking off at the fountain. The sun broke through some clouds and made something shimmer in the corner of Mason’s eye. I thought it might have been makeup at first—he wore some, judging by his perfect complexion and extra-long lashes—but realized it was a tear.