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)
Two new notes. Wow. And a trinket. Gavin picked up the photo, looked closely at it for a moment, and then set it down. A bee? “There’s a brand of playing cards called Bee.”
“Yes. I found that on a Google search. Any particular significance?”
“A lot of casinos use them. They’re known for their durability.”
She paused a moment, thinking. “Hmm. Okay.”
He gestured to the small stack of papers. “Can I read the notes?”
She nodded, picking them up and passing them to him along with a highlighter. “I also included the ones you already read, in case you need to refer back. There are a few references to card games and hands of cards in the latest ones that don’t mean anything to us.” She still looked troubled but hopeful, and he said a silent prayer that if there was anything he could find that would provide insight, it would jump out at him immediately. “Those are all copies that you’re free to make notes on.” Gavin nodded while sitting back in his chair, notes and pen in hand as he began to read.
He became immersed in the words, making note of each thing that caught his eye or stopped him for even the briefest moment. He went through both notes, line by line. They were more intense than the first ones, which surprised Gavin to some extent.
When he was done, he placed the pages back on the table, his brow knitting. “I know you had me read those for any hidden clues in the card lingo, but damn, if it’s true, it’s . . .” He paused, having trouble selecting just the right words.
“Shockingly depressing?”
He laughed shortly. “That about sums it up.” He paused, wondering who this guy was—some maladjusted kid looking for attention in the only way he thought he could get it, or some bona fide psychopath. And really, did the differentiation matter if it meant this person posed a threat to society at large and Sienna specifically?
Sienna sat forward, crossing her legs and breaking him from his momentary musings. “You highlighted a couple of things.”
He picked up the papers again. “Uh, yes. This here,” he said, pointing at the first neon-yellow pen stroke, “he references Texas Hold’em, but he misspells it, without the e. It might just be a mistake, but I highlighted it just in case.”
She nodded, taking the page he offered. “Thanks,” she said. “I didn’t catch that.”
“Then this here,” he said, pointing to another highlighted spot; “he refers to his mother’s hand—two queens and three twos—as the highest hand possible. That would only be true if they were playing deuces wild.”
“Deuces wild,” she repeated.
“Right. She has two queens, and with three wild cards, it’s five of a kind. The highest hand possible in seven-card stud.” He handed her the rest of the papers. “Sorry, that’s all I found.” He paused. “I’m obviously not a cop, and you’ve probably already considered this, but what about Mr. Patches saying he knew a guy at the kid’s father’s work?”
“There’s just no way to know who that person is, especially without knowing Mr. Patches’s identity. It could’ve been a neighbor or a barista at his local coffee bar. Anyone really.”
“Or,” Gavin said, “he could’ve looked into the kid and realized he was the perfect victim.”
Sienna appeared troubled for a moment but conjured a small smile. “I really appreciate your help.”
“I wish I could offer more.”
“There might not be more.” She sighed. “There might not be anything. Maybe he’s done playing games and now just wants to tell his life story.”
He studied her for a moment. “But you don’t believe that.”
Her lip quirked. “That obvious, huh? I never did have a very good poker face.”
No, you never did.
It wasn’t just because Gavin was good at reading faces that he’d been able to read hers. She’d always worn her heart on her sleeve. She’d never been much good at hiding her anger or her joy.
Her sorrow.
It was why he hadn’t had the courage to face her in the end.
She gathered the papers and began returning them to her briefcase. “Thank you again. The department appreciates it.”
The department.
They stood, and he followed her to the door, this unfamiliar desperation clawing at him to keep her from leaving.
Cool it, Gavin. She has a job to do.
“Before you leave,” he said, his words coming out in a rush, “Mirabelle wanted me to invite you to dinner. Monday.”
Sienna turned back toward him, blinking. “Uh . . .”
“Argus will be there.”
He saw the surprised happiness flicker over her face. “They’re still together,” she said.
“Are you surprised?” he asked on a smile. She’d posed it as a statement, so he knew she wasn’t.
She gave a short laugh that was mostly breath but tipped her head as though conceding his point. “No, though she did put him through the wringer. Did she finally marry the poor guy?”