Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
That got a chuckle out of me. “I feel like I did. No, it was a surprise visitor that’s got me worked up.” I sighed, surprised at how on edge I still felt. “It was Nick. Jesse’s friend.”
Rocky almost jerked the car to a complete stop. I looked to my left, surprised.
“Nick? Nick Ricks? He was here?”
“Yeah, minutes ago.”
Rocky chewed on his lip and scanned the parking lot, which we were just about to exit. “I saw someone running. Shit.”
“Rocky, what’s going on?”
Rocky made a sharp turn, heading back into the lot. “Sorry,” he said, “but this could be my chance.”
“For what?” Confusion started giving way to fear. “What’s going on?”
“Nick and Jesse were hooking up. I’ve got them on video, and I’ve got Nick here moments before the murder. To top it all off, I found out he lives down the street from Stonewall. I went to his apartment before coming here, but no one answered.”
Even though Rocky had barely spoke three sentences, it was still information overload. “Wait, wait, wait. He was here before the murder? And they were hooking up? Jesus… but Nick’s super homophobic. He… fucking hell. He did it?”
“I don’t know. But I want to talk to him. I want to hear whatever paper-thin alibi he gives me for the time of the murder.”
“Ok. Alright, let’s go.”
“Let’s go?”
“Let’s find this guy. He couldn’t have gotten very far. We’ll let the other guys know we’ll be a little late to the date.”
Rocky looked like he was about to argue but there wasn’t much time. He sent a text message. Angel, being another detective, completely understood and let us know they’d meet us later.
We circled the block but didn’t spot Nick.
“Go up that street,” I said, pointing toward a tree-lined street where cars were parked next to blinking green meters.
Rocky drove slow, both of us keeping our eyes sharp. At one corner, I thought we spotted him, but when the guy turned it was clear I was mistaken.
“He could be anywhere,” I said, feeling a little deflated. And then, since I was saying whatever was coming to my mind, I asked, “and why would he do it? Why did he kill Jesse? And he tried blaming it on Hazel. Smearing it on her door… why?”
“Passion makes people do crazy things. Mix that with hardcore drugs, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. I’ve got a feeling they were high off something and started to argue. Maybe Jesse threatened to out their relationship. That could be a huge push for Nick to snap. And we know he doesn’t like Hazel, at all. He may have thought it would be a way to get out of it.”
I shook my head, feeling a weird mixture of both relief and hopelessness. We felt so close to the answer, but that didn’t erase any of the questions.
Rocky and I brainstormed some more as we drove up and down the Miami streets, passing by bodegas and barbershops and swimwear stores, all of them potential hiding places for Nick.
At one point, I called Hazel so I could fill her in on what we thought, but she didn’t pick up her phone, so I called Olive next. I told them both to sleep somewhere else for the night and to not speak to Nick until Rocky or the police do.
After about another hours of driving, Rocky called it. “Alright, we should head back. The fair’s not far from here.”
“He can’t hide for long.”
“No. I’ve got a feeling he won’t be showing up at his house, but at least I’ve got the address. I’ll be staking it out in between looking for him. I’ll find him.”
I didn’t like knowing that Nick had been so close, especially if he was the one who had murdered Jesse and tried to frame Hazel. My throat felt dry as ash, and my hands were clamming up. Rocky must have sensed it, because he reached out and rubbed my leg reassuringly.
“It’s going to be ok,” he said, “This is the lead I’ve been looking for. I have a feeling I can hunt down the murder weapon, too. I don’t think Nick is smart enough to dispose of that without someone finding it. Especially not now that the spotlight’s turning on him,” Rocky said as we drove across the bridge that connected Miami Beach to the rest of Miami. I looked out on the bay, the water seeming so peaceful, reflecting some of the purple and blue lights that lit up along the bridge. There were a couple of boats lazily drifting across the water.
“I hope so, Rocky. I really do.”
He grabbed my hand in his, his fingers slipping through mine. Suddenly, the same peacefulness that seemed to rise up from the bay came over me. I held Rocky’s hand tight as he drove, the conversation slowly turning away from Nick and back toward regular topics. There were a couple of times I looked in the rearview mirror and thought I spotted Nick’s beat-up Chevy behind us, but I pushed away the paranoia and focused on the night ahead.