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)
And she’d come to him for help.
“There’s one more thing,” she said, leaning down again and removing a few more pieces of paper from her briefcase. “It appears the person who killed our victim left a note, both at the crime scene and with Lucia Pechero.”
Gavin’s brows sank in confusion. “With Lucia? How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know exactly. It’s not clear.” She told him about the letter that was addressed to her and about Lucia’s surprise when she’d called. “Did you tell anyone you were sending me her information?”
“No. And I sent that to you from my home computer, using my personal email address.”
“Do you live with anyone?” He noted that she continued to look down at the notebook in her lap until he answered.
“No.”
“Then it appears as if this person is somehow one step ahead of us, and I have no idea how that’s possible unless this is all some elaborate setup. Can you think of anyone who might want to bring you into a police investigation?”
“No.” He ran a finger under his lip, thinking. “I live a pretty quiet life, to be honest.” Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, and she gave a nod before she reached forward, setting a couple of pieces of paper on his desk again.
Gavin took them, noting that they were copies of handwritten notes, the first short and single sided, the second two pages, both sides filled with the same neat writing.
“Do you mind looking them over?” Sienna asked. “I’m sorry I can’t leave those copies with you—”
“I have time,” Gavin said, picking them up and leaning back in his chair. From his peripheral vision, he saw Sienna pick up her phone and scroll through it as he read.
When he was done, he set the pages down and pushed them back across the desk. She retrieved them and set them in her lap on top of the notepad still there.
“What is this?” he asked. “Someone’s diary?”
“Or a piece of fiction fed to us for reasons unknown. I’m not sure. I thought maybe the dog’s name might mean something. Did anything stick out at all?”
“Jaxon?”
“Yes, but he calls him Jax in one spot.” Sienna picked up the copies and scanned quickly to the place she meant, then read from the copy. “‘I first went to the back porch to see if Jaxon was still there, curled up in his pool of sunshine. But when I looked out the window, no Jax.’”
“No Jax. As in . . . no jacks? Cards?”
Sienna huffed out a breath. “I don’t know.” She rubbed her temple, and Gavin had the desire to comfort her. It startled him. Not the need to offer Sienna Walker comfort from her obvious frustration but the strength of it. As if it’d been yesterday when she would have welcomed such a thing, rather than eleven years before.
But the fact remained that it had been eleven years, and regardless of the feeling’s strength, it belonged to him and him alone.
“Can I see those again?” he asked, gesturing to the pages in her hand. She gave them over wordlessly, and he scanned the lines again, but there were no more numbers or card suits. He used the pads of his fingers to tap on the pages, going back to what she’d said about the dog.
“No jacks. Okay, so let’s take a look at the remaining ones,” he said, realizing why she’d asked him that question a few minutes before.
“I tried that, but the other cards are still meaningless to me. What about you?”
He reached his hand out, and she obviously knew what he was asking for because she handed him the photo of the seven cards placed in the order they’d been displayed in the victim’s hand. Their eyes lingered for a few extra beats, and Sienna looked away first, watching as he took the picture, placed it on top of the other papers on his desk, and studied the cards. No jacks. So without those, the cards read: eight of spades, nine of hearts, five of diamonds, ace of clubs, and two of diamonds. Eight, nine . . . five, one, two.
Gavin looked up at Sienna to find her studying him. Her eyes widened, and she looked briefly embarrassed before her expression leveled.
“Eight, nine, five, one—if you’re counting the ace as a one—two, is a zip code here in town,” he said.
“Oh.” She blinked twice, her gaze going to the side. “Yes. Yes. Where is it?”
“Over in Northeast, I think. Hold on.” He opened his laptop and used a search engine to confirm what he’d said. “Yup. Northeast. It’s a pretty big area, though.”
Sienna was tapping her knee again the way she did when her mind was going so fast her body unconsciously attempted to play along. “He is, though,” she said as if thinking aloud and only voicing half her thought.