Chapter 24 Spencer
Zander texted us in the group chat to let us know Kratos had moved the meeting to nine. He didn’t explain, but I don’t question it, and neither does Rick. Kratos calls the shots, and I'm more than happy to do as he says if it means I stay on his less murderous side.
I’ve been in the library since late last night.
I should‘ve gone to bed when Zander and Jade left, but I didn’t.
Instead, I continued to try and find anything I could on Jade, which led to more nothing.
Now, I need to go through the feeds from the station before the meeting and get it handled.
With my search for answers on Jade, I'd pushed that to the last second, and now I can’t push it anymore.
Whoever wiped the camera outside the holding cell did a good job, meaning they must know their stuff.
Too bad I know more.
It took a while, but I should have the whole video downloaded in about two more minutes. I know the orders were to get rid of it, and I will, but I’ll be damned if I don't at least see it first. Then, if it has nothing to do with Jade, it can go right back to the abyss.
It sounds dumb to go through all of this just to link it back to Jade, but every day that passes makes me more desperate for answers.
The only problem is I don’t know what side I’m on anymore.
Before last night, I wanted this to be connected to her.
I wanted her to go down just like I promised her she would.
But after seeing her raw and torn apart, I almost want to be wrong.
Not enough that I can turn a blind eye if I’m right, and not enough to stop digging, but I’m no longer sure I’ll enjoy it.
Fuck!
I can’t let emotions influence this. I need to deal with the facts and go from there.
My computer beeps, pulling my attention back to the screen and letting me know that the last video is complete. I drag it over to the bar, where I have lined up every other video from that night in order.
With my earbuds in, I sit back and press play. Although the video doesn’t have sound, they work great as earplugs to keep me focused.
Our murderer comes in through a ground-floor window at the back of the building. It’s not telling; anyone could climb through one of those. The camera isn’t positioned well, so I can’t tell if they broke the lock or if it was open, but it’s a minor detail.
They move quickly and quietly down the hall and straight to the holding cell.
Whoever this person is, they knew exactly where they were going—either because they did their research or because someone told them—again, it doesn't really matter. They’re dressed in dark, loose-fitting clothes, which makes pinning down their size much harder.
Their face and hair are also covered, and they're careful to keep their head down.
Yeah, this isn’t just somebody off the street who was mad about their daughter being picked up or someone worried their name would be ruined for purchasing girls. This person knows exactly what they are doing and how to do it. This was a hit. It was planned.
The most notable information so far comes when the assailant gets to the cell.
Bending down, they pick the lock with ease.
It's not exactly a crazy skill to have. Hell, Zander’s great with a lock pick, but it further confirms this person knows what they are doing.
But I'm more interested in the moment before they pick the lock, while they’re still standing outside the cell door.
I mentally note where they fall in relevance to the frame so I can reference it later for their height.
Corey sleeps on the cot when they enter. Grabbing his hair, they yank him from the bed, tossing him on the ground. He wakes up disoriented for a moment before recognition shines in his eyes. Whoever they are, he knew them.
Words are exchanged, and I mentally curse the station for being so far in the stone age that none of their cameras have audio capabilities.
I focus instead on their body language. After a moment, our murderer lunges forward, cutting into the meaty part of his arm.
There's the first cut, just like Kratos thought, and judging by our assailant's quick and sure movements, he was also correct about it being shallow on purpose: a warning or a promise.
The pathetic piece of shit is crying as he holds his arm, trying to stop the blood, and even without sound, I know he's begging for his life.
They always beg, no matter how undeserving they are.
He slowly scoots back toward the wall, but our unknown doesn't let him get far. For every movement he makes, they take a step forward, keeping the distance small and effectively backing him into a corner. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Corey if his constantly shifting eyes are anything to go by.
Whatever he’s said pisses them off. With a quick shake of their head, they lunge again. This time, their knife stops just short of his left eye.
Pausing the video, I zoom in to try and get a good look at the knife.
Some people use weapons like calling cards.
Zander, for example, his love for one particular knife could probably get us in a lot of trouble if someone ever got their hands on it, but we won’t let that happen.
It appears to be a standard hunting knife, with no visible markings, nothing that makes it stand out from any other knife off the shelf of any store.
With a huff of annoyance, I press play again.
Neither of them move, and I assume our unknown assassin is having a word.
Corey's eyes dart between their face and the knife.
If he were to move, he'd be risking his eye.
Tears track down his face. Pathetic. Not such a big guy now that he's not taking advantage of little girls.
Having said their piece, they strike again, apparently having nothing left to keep him alive for.
The blood from the second cut flows much faster than the first. Standing, they watch as he bleeds out, wiping the blood from the knife on their pants. A boot to the chest lets them know he’s at the very least out cold, if not already dead, and that seems to be enough for them.
Bending slightly at the waist, they stash their knife again before turning and stalking back out the way they came, going so far as to close the cell door behind them. The only trace of them being there is the man left in a pool of his own blood.
I watch the video on repeat, but other than the possibility of getting their height, it seems like this was a waste.
Fuck!
All of that for nothing. One big waste of time. I drag the files to the bin and prepare to scrub the drive, but I can't make myself do it. Something is bugging me, like a tickle in the back of my brain.
I pull up the last video and watch it three more times before I understand the nagging feeling. When they tucked the knife away, it wasn’t put into a holster like the one Zan keeps on him. Instead, they appear to tuck it into a leg holster or maybe even a tall boot.
The idea of it being a tall boot instantly brings Jade to mind. The night of the party, she wore high combat boots that Rick later told me were a gift from Zander.
I know it’s not concrete evidence. Hell, it's hardly anything, but something screams that this is important. It might not be enough to get the guys on my side, but it’s more than I found in her past, and I need something.
I delete the rest of the files, only saving the one on my secure flash drive before wiping my computer for any leftover traces of the files.
It's just after four, and I weigh my options. I could take a nap before the meeting or try to dig into Jade some more.
I shut my laptop, grabbing it and my mug, before heading back upstairs. As much as I want answers about her, I think sleep is more important right now. After all, I might need to be awake to look around later tonight.
My phone alarm chirps and I barely resist the urge to chuck the damn thing across the room. Instead, I grab it and shut it up before checking the time. It’s just after seven. If I get up now, I can shower and grab something to eat before we have to head out.
I’m still dragging ass when I finally make it to the kitchen, where Rick is already waiting.
“You look like shit,” he tells me, and I grunt in response because I know that, but I don’t need to hear it.
I grab some leftovers from the last time Elizabeth came to cook for us and find spaghetti. I don’t remember having spaghetti this week.
Either I missed that meal, or this is old.
“It’s from two nights ago when you were holed up in the library. It’s probably still good, but Kratos said he's ordering food so we can eat there. Just grab something to get you there,” Rick tells me after he watches me side-eye the pasta for a minute, debating what to do.
Closing the container, I toss it back in the fridge. I settle for an apple from the basket, biting into it and nodding to the door to let him know I’m ready to head out.
Before we even reach the damn car, I finish the apple, and I'm still starving. It didn’t do shit, I should have just warmed up the damn leftovers.
When was the last time I actually ate? Fuck, I don’t even know.
We make it off the grounds before Rick says anything, which is further than I thought we would.
“Did you get all the shit from the station cleared up?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s like it never happened.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily because it’s more like twisting information.
The videos are gone. Nobody else could pull them up, and the one small video I kept is hidden away.
Over the years, I’ve found that it's easier to keep shit from the guys if I’m not outright lying.
Most days, our years of friendship save our asses, but in this case, it's annoying. They know when I'm lying.