Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I swallow hard. Before I left to kill her murderer, I made sure no one would find her in so degrading a position. In the madness of the moment, I tried to care for her, even knowing I was far too late.
I force a deep breath in to banish the image, the memories, and reach into the back of the drawer to get whatever it was that rolled back. My heart races as I wrap my hand around the objects and draw them out, and I don’t need to see them to know what they are. I’ve become very familiar with their texture. But I look anyway.
Three more blue stones. Three to match the one I found on that catwalk.
My gut tightens. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
I turn to look over my shoulder through the slight split between the curtains, but no one can be watching me. No one could see inside.
I turn back to the beads in my hand and from under my sleeve, see the few of mine that peek out. An exact match. But it doesn’t mean anything. Caius’s bracelet is intact. I saw it with my own eyes.
So, I tuck the beads into my pocket, put the burnt sheet of paper into its envelope and walk out of that room. I look around as I go toward the front office, taking in every model of car, every person I see, all the while feeling like I’m being watched.
A bell over the door chimes as I enter the front office. Someone is getting change for the laundry machine from the attendant, who can’t be more than seventeen. When the man leaves, I walk up to the counter.
The kid looks me over, confused. “You need a room?” I must not look like his usual clientele.
“No. Question for you. Who was staying in room nineteen?” I ask, taking my wallet and slipping some bills out, looking like I’m counting them.
“Oh. Um.” His gaze moves from the bills in my hand to his computer. “Aaron Anon,” he says. “Dude checks out tomorrow. Asked not to be disturbed.”
“Aaron Anon. That’s what his ID said?”
The kid flushes. “Might have forgot to check.”
“How did he pay?”
He hits a few buttons, although it’s for show. He and I both know the answer. “Cash.”
“What did he look like?”
His gaze falls to the bills in my hand again and I slide some of the cash toward him.
He takes it. “Big guy. Baseball cap, hoodie. Kept his head down so I didn’t really get a good look.”
“Hm. Did he have any scars? On his neck, maybe?”
“Came in late a couple nights ago. Couldn’t see him all that well.”
“Do you remember what kind of car he drove?”
“I know a taxi dropped him off.”
“Checks out tomorrow, you said? Did he have a bag with him?”
“Can’t remember. Maybe. I don’t know, man. I’m not supposed to talk about our guests.”
“I bet. Thanks for nothing.” I walk out. That was useless, and there’s no sense in waiting for Aaron Anon, aka Aaron Anonymous, to return. He won’t be back. He just wanted to give me enough time to find what he left me.
I take my phone out of my pocket to look at my exchange with Thiago or whoever has access to his messaging app. I hit the call button one final time and I think I know what I’m going to get—and I’m right.
This time, the phone doesn’t ring, doesn’t go into voicemail. A recorded message comes on to tell me that number is no longer in service.
The afternoon sun is setting in the horizon. I stand outside in that parking lot and watch it descend. I’ve found what I was meant to find. I won’t have any more messages from Thiago’s number.
The parking lot lights flicker on as I cross to my SUV. Val texts me as I climb in. He tells me he’s taking Madelena home. I ask him to let her know I’ll be back in a few hours and start the long drive back to Avarice, but I’m not going home just yet.
It’s a little after ten at night when I get to Rick Frey’s house. Rick Frey is Odin’s boyfriend and the same man who was able to hack into the website of the security company Jax Donovan used to access files that were supposed to have been destroyed years ago. He lives in a modest apartment with his mother. I walk into the three-story building and make my way up to the third floor. It’s quiet inside when I ring the bell, then remember from the last time Odin and I were here that it’s broken and knock on the door.
The first time I paid Rick Frey a visit, Odin was at my side. If he hadn’t been, I’m pretty sure Rick would have had a heart attack. He’s skittish, one of those people whose IQ is so high they pay the price socially. I wonder how he and Odin met, actually.