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)
But no. No, she knew. Her gaze returned to the notepad where she’d rewritten what Sienna had jotted down as she’d apparently tried to work through some clue in her case.
Vanadium, Iodine, Oxygen, Lithium. VIOL
Violets, Violence, Violent.
Mirabelle had done a search on vanadium and iodine and the rest and found them all on the periodic table of elements, each one apparently relating to a letter in a word being spelled out, though not yet complete. Sienna had obviously been trying to guess where it might be going. Mirabelle was almost certain she knew what the word was, though, and what the final two letters would be.
The names Reva Keeling and Bernadette Murray had been written down as well. And she recognized them. She’d heard Reva’s name on the news, but it hadn’t been familiar. Reva must have gotten married at some point, because when Mirabelle had known her, her name had been Reva Lilly. They’d mostly called her Lil. Other than the few details that floated by when Argus was watching TV, Mirabelle hadn’t paid attention to the news other than to know Sienna was working a dangerous case. As she didn’t necessarily want to know the details, she tuned the news out as a matter of course. Specifics about violence upset her. She’d had enough violence for one lifetime. Her ex-husband had been a monster.
Could it be him? After all these years? Right here in Reno? In the same town they’d once lived in together?
She looked up Reva Keeling’s photo from the press conference, checking and rechecking her assumptions. She looked so different. So old. Although Mirabelle hadn’t heard mention of the name of the second victim, she’d known it immediately when she’d seen it scrawled in Sienna’s handwriting. Bernadette. It was a unique name, and Bernadette had been a unique woman. Funny as hell. She’d had Mirabelle practically peeing her pants with laughter some days.
Reva and Bernadette. Lil and Bee.
There’d been another victim found just the night before. She’d looked online but hadn’t seen his name anywhere yet. Maybe they’d already identified him and didn’t need help from the public. But maybe they were still contacting family members. She had to wait. She had to find out the name of that third victim.
Her phone rang, startling her and practically making her scream. She grabbed for it, taking a deep breath, attempting to slow her racing heart.
“Gavin,” she greeted.
“Hey, it’s good to hear your voice. How are you feeling? You still sound a little weak.”
Weak. That was one way of putting it.
“A little. But I’m better. I’m getting there. How are you? How is Sienna? I saw on the news there was another murder. It’s terrible.”
“You don’t usually watch the news,” Gavin said, a smile in his voice. “You’ve always said you’re allergic to it.”
“Oh. Well.” She let out a small laugh. “Now that Sienna’s back in town . . .”
“You’re going to watch the news to make sure you shouldn’t be worrying about her. I get it.” She heard the tenderness in her boy’s voice—he’d always be her boy, even though he was a man now—and her heart constricted tightly. Oh, the joy she’d felt when she’d looked between him and Sienna and realized they were together again. The way it should be.
The world had seemed to grow ten shades brighter. She’d felt such a sense of hope, the likes of which she hadn’t felt in so long. She’d seen the love in Gavin’s eyes and the happiness in Sienna’s.
“Do they have a name?” she asked Gavin. “For the newest victim?”
“Yeah, they just put it out, actually, a few minutes ago. Harry something, I think they said . . . why do you ask?”
Her stomach dropped again, bile moving up her throat. She swallowed it down. “Oh . . . no reason,” she managed.
Gavin was quiet for a moment. “Hey, Mom, have you spoken to Argus? I tried to call him earlier, but he still hasn’t called me back.”
“No. He might have been sleeping. He teaches that class Tuesday nights, Hocus-Pocus and Sleight of Hand? It usually goes until almost midnight.” And Argus, the old fuddy-duddy, didn’t even own a cell phone. She glanced at the clock, though. It was almost six now. Even if he’d slept late and then gotten busy doing errands, he was usually good about calling back once he got home.
“Oh . . . right. Okay, well, when you talk to him, tell him to call me.”
“I will.”
They said their goodbyes, and Mirabelle ended the call, then immediately dialed Argus’s number. She’d been in her own world since leaving Sienna’s house, but . . . she hadn’t spoken to him all day, either, and that was unusual. Often they went a few days without seeing each other during the week, when she caught up on errands and he taught a couple of classes, and then he basically moved in on the weekends, but they usually spoke every day. Their arrangement wasn’t typical, she supposed, but it worked for them. It works for you, she told herself. Okay, yes. But she had reasons for that. Her independence, the control over her own environment, was still highly coveted, even so many years later.