Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” she says. “I know Nathan. He comes in to study late at night. I really like him, and I’m not saying that because you know him. I tried to get him to ask me out and he never did, so feel free to tell him to take the hint.”
There is a twist in my gut, a reminder to me that the words I spoke to Andrew were truthful. I am not a monster, but my special skill is catching monsters. A young man’s life was ended prematurely. He will never be nudged to date Bonnie. He will never be a father. He’ll never be a husband. He’ll never live another day, and that fate is the same as my mother’s.
“What days does he normally come in?”
She presses a finger to his jaw, pondering. “Mondays, I think. He was in a couple of nights ago and today is Wednesdays, so yup. Mondays.”
“I guess this is a safe study place,” I comment, accepting my card from her and writing a tip for Ted on my slip. “I notice other people studying here. It’s not very quiet, though.”
“We all use earbuds. I study here a lot, too.”
I’m pushing it at this point, close to exposing myself as what I am, and I decide I’m not ready to allow that to happen, not until I know how connected this place is or is not to the other victims. It’s time to go, but I’ll be back.
Chapter Thirteen
The art of observation is the art of investigation.
I exit the coffee shop in no rush to leave the neighborhood. With Jay still inside, I linger near the door, resting on a wall, watching people hustle and bustle about, while I wait for Jay. The most noteworthy of my observations has to do with security cameras. There’s a hotel across the street that just might allow me a view of the front door of Curly Joe’s. I didn’t ask Bonnie if Nathan came in alone, but the time for discretion won’t last.
Jay exits the coffee shop and I push off the wall, the two of us starting to walk. He motions to a black SUV and we head in that direction. Once we’re loaded up in the back seat, Enrique, one of Kane’s men, greets me with nothing more than an arched brow. In other words, are you going to try to shoot me again? He’d tried to stop me from shooting Pocher after Kane’s chopper went down. In hindsight, he probably did me a favor, but I’ll never admit that.
“Don’t piss me off, Enrique, or I’ll shoot you this time.”
He laughs. “Kind of easy to do, Lilah. I must be a dead man walking. Where are we going?”
“Home,” I say, “and as long as we understand each other,” I glance at Jay, “the coffee shop is a spot the victim went to. What did you notice when you were there?”
“College kids, an old man, and a flirty chick.”
“The obvious,” I say, with my mind racing, “that’s it.”
“I take it the obvious is never the right answer?”
“Sometimes it’s exactly the right answer,” I say, and I’m thinking about Kane, and how damn obvious it is that he’s hiding something from me.
But not for long.
***
The norm for me would be to call Tic Tac right now and run down the details of the case.
Today is not the norm.
I didn’t plan on ending my honeymoon with murder and a serial killer. I didn’t plan on a confrontation with Kane on the topic of the secrets we are no longer supposed to be keeping from each other. I’ve now managed to nail both pretty much to the bullseye. To conquer it all, first and foremost, my own house needs to be in order and that’s where my head is right now. Even with this plan in mind, we’re almost to the apartment when I receive a message from Detective Rollins. It reads simply: Files in your inbox. Autopsy is at two tomorrow. You know where to find it and me.
I don’t reply. He doesn’t expect me to reply. If he did, he would be dumb and I don’t think Detective Rollins is dumb. A bit of a girl where his emotions come into play, but not dumb. Then again, too many emotions make smart people stupid, so I may have to rethink my opinion of him. For now, I open my email and forward everything to Tic Tac before I text him: I haven’t looked at them yet, but there are a couple of case files in your email. I need them cross-referenced with tonight’s victim as soon as possible.
He replies with: Translation. You need stuff.
I don’t reply. He’s right. I do. The problem for me right now is that I don’t even know what all of the “stuff” is because I’m in the dark while Kane is not. And being in the dark is dangerous. Anger claws at me, and the SUV pulls up in front of our apartment building. Jay opens his door and exits. I follow to exit on the side of the entryway. It’s a safety thing, a way to use the vehicle as a shield, which I get. I do. I’m not dumb. I don’t have a death wish. I’ll exit safely, but what is dumb is me being blind to my enemy. Really dumb, in fact.