Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“That was found in the waistband of the victim’s skirt,” Ingrid said.
Sienna leaned forward, as did Kat, smoothing the plastic covering the paper, and they began to read.
I was thirteen when my mother killed my father. She had to; there was really no other choice. You see, the man was a hateful bastard who didn’t deserve to call himself Father. My mother had given him some amount of leeway, being that he had spent much of my life on the road, working as a salesman, and we didn’t have to put up with him on a regular basis. And though neither of us appreciated his volatile presence or loathsome personality, we did appreciate the paycheck he dropped off before he, again, bent his tall frame into his car and drove out of town. He must have exhibited some measure of likability at some point because he’d turned Mother’s head, but whatever qualities had originally lured her in, she never explained. In any case, I’d steer clear of him when he was home, lest he get it in his mind I had slighted him in some way and take out his aggression using his belt or his fists or, once, a cat-shaped doorstop that resulted in the complete loss of my hearing in one ear and a headache that lasted more than a month.
Mother fumed after that one, and though she didn’t say a word, I could tell she was plotting his demise.
“Cat got your tongue, Danny Boy?” she would say when we were alone and I was particularly quiet.
“No, Mother,” I would reply, sharing a secret smile. “But he did a number on my ear.” And then we would laugh and laugh because, though we hadn’t spoken of it, we both knew Father wasn’t long for the world and that Mother was going to give him his just deserts at the first opportunity. She didn’t need to say a word. I had seen it clearly in her eyes.
Kat finished seconds before Sienna and sat back in her chair. Confused, Sienna looked up at Ingrid once she’d finished reading. “Is this from the killer?”
“It could have been written by the victim, I guess, though the name Danny Boy says otherwise.”
“Unless she was writing a story?”
“Anyway”—Ingrid took the letter contained in the clear evidence bag and put it back in her briefcase—“another piece of the puzzle. I’m going to search the database and see if I get any hits on missing women that fit her description, specifically ones that disappeared from work in the last few days, and any crimes that have similar elements. If we don’t get any leads by the end of the day, we can consider doing a presser and asking the public for some help identifying her.”
Kat slipped the notepad she’d been writing on into the folder in front of her and closed it, then slid her chair back. “We’re going to compile a list of casinos where she might have worked based on her uniform, and then we’ll be off to the Emerald Isle. Ready, partner?” she asked Sienna.
The Emerald Isle.
Where he worked.
As ready as she’d ever be, which was to say, not at all.
CHAPTER FOUR
Damn, it’d been a bitch of a day. Gavin tossed his coat over the living room chair, loosening his tie as he walked to the minibar and poured himself a generous splash of bourbon.
They’d had an upgrade on their systems, and everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. Not to mention he’d been locked away in a small, windowless room for most of it, which had done nothing for his mood. He took a much-needed sip of the alcohol, letting it burn down his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d required a stiff drink simply to relax the tension in his shoulders after a workday, but this one had been brutal enough to warrant it. He stood in front of his window, the top floor of his condo building providing a stellar view of the Reno skyline and the desert beyond. The last of the liquor was smooth going down. All’s well that ends well. He set the empty tumbler on the side table next to him and rolled his neck, bending it left and then right. His muscles were less tight now. Better.
Of course, his mom would tell him he needed to find a good woman who would rub his shoulders for him so he didn’t have to depend on a shot of bourbon or a good half hour in the sauna he’d had built into his bathroom to ease his stress.
Maybe so. And perhaps someday soon he’d get serious about looking. But so far, he hadn’t met anyone he was interested in for more than a brief, uncomplicated relationship. If relationship was even the right word. He sighed and massaged the last of the tension out of his neck.