Chapter 14
HARLOW
Something was wrong.
What was it? I couldn't put my finger on it, but as I approached the restaurant early on Wednesday morning, I could feel it.
Nothing looked out of place. No one else looked concerned as they walked past me.
You're imagining it, I told myself. Jumpy because of everything that's happened.
That was totally fair. Things had been crazy. I couldn't help remembering Solomon Danforth and the way he disappeared in the middle of the soirée. Another thing I was more than likely overthinking; sometimes paranoia was our worst enemy. Okay, more than sometimes.
Solomon never gave me any reason to think he'd do anything wrong. Showing up at a party wasn't a crime. If it was, we'd all be guilty of it.
Some of us more than others.
I entered the alleyway behind the restaurant and started to unlock the door.
Stopped when I realized it was already unlocked.
That wasn't unusual; some days Erin arrived before I did and started to prep the kitchen. She was nothing if not keen to learn and grow. I adored that about her.
Shoving my keys into my pocket, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Morning," I called out, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
No one called back.
That was strange.
Had Erin not heard me? I supposed it was possible.
It was also possible someone broke in on our days off, and left the door unlocked. If they did, they'd end up on the menu. If there was something I hated, apart from abusive assholes and cold blooded murderers, it was thieves. I worked hard for this place. Not to have someone steal from me.
I stepped carefully, eyes scanning back and forth, looking for signs of damage. Seeing none.
Had we left the door unlocked for two days?
None of us were ever that sloppy. This was my livelihood, after all. I couldn't afford to give anyone free access to the equipment and food we kept here.
The deeper into the restaurant I went, the more aware I became of an all-too familiar smell. One that shouldn't be so strong, not here.
The unmistakable tang of blood.
What the fuck?
Swallowing hard, I moved forward slowly, tentatively making my way to the kitchen.
Glanced inside.
Nothing in there looked touched. Everything was as spotlessly clean as we left it on Sunday night.
Heart in my throat, I moved past the kitchen, towards the sitting area.
Every single table seemed to be covered in blood. It was on the walls. On the floors.
I stepped around a disembodied hand.
Then a foot. A small one.
Wearing grey sneakers.
My hand over my mouth, I kept on inching forward, eyes stinging. Hoping I wouldn't see what I knew I would.
There, beside the front door was hair attached to something round. I knew that hair. Knew if I turned the head around whose face I'd see.
I choked back a sob.
"Harlow, what, oh my God." Gina stopped behind me. "Is that…"
I could barely manage to get the word out. "Erin."
I didn't want to, but I forced myself to crouch beside her. To take a good look at her face. She stared back at me, eyes wide open, glazed but full of fear.
Whoever did this to her, she knew she was about to die.
"Who would do something like this?" Gina whispered. "We need to call the police."
"Yeah, we do." I pushed myself to my feet and made the call. I didn't want them here, but this wasn't something I could brush under the proverbial carpet. Especially since her blood was still shining, wet.
She hadn't been dead for long.
"You should go," I said to Gina once I ended the call. "Unless you know anything about this."
"Not a thing." Her eyes were almost as wide as Erin's. She kept glancing around as if scared someone was going to jump out and kill us too.
"Go on then," I said. "I'll try to keep you out of this. I guess I'll…let you know when the restaurant is open again."
If she was game to come back.
"I'll keep paying you," I added quickly.
I owed her that much. I'd also understand if she wanted to work somewhere else. You didn't see something as horrific as this and then get on with life like nothing happened. This was going to take time for her to process.
I'd give her all the time she needed.
"Thank you," she said vaguely, backing toward the door, her eyes raking around the room, taking in everything.
I nodded and sent off a message to the group chat I had with the guys. They'd want to know what happened to Erin.
I found a clean section of wall and sank back against it.
This was about me. Somehow they knew we were looking for them and they came after us first. How long had they known? Had they targeted Erin's phone before they came for her?
I didn't even need to wonder who they were. I already knew.
This was what they did to my sister. Broke her, then sliced her into pieces. Scattered her like she was confetti. These people were sick. Sicker than anything I'd ever done.
Sicker than me fucking Boner while waiting for Archer to kill Jason.
Sicker than locking someone in a plastic box and waiting for them to drown.
Sicker than cutting out a dead person's heart.
"What the fucking hell?"
It took a moment to register it wasn't one of my boyfriends who spoke. Nor was it a member of the NYPD.
I suppressed a groan.
"Jules, what are you doing here?" Wasn't this day bad enough already?
"Cassius told me to come," he said, his eyes scanning the room in horrified shock. "I was close by."
"How close?" I spun to face him. "Close enough to do this?"
He stared at me. "You think I did this?" He tucked his chin down as he spoke in disbelief. "I know we've had our moments, but I wouldn't fucking kill… That was one of your staff, right?"
He couldn't hide the fact he was rattled by what he saw. Who wouldn't be? Even after the things I'd seen and done, this was horrific. The fact it was someone I knew and cared about…
Heads were going to roll for this, one way or another.
"She was, yes," I said. "Did you see anyone in here?"
"The only person I saw in here today was you." He raised his chin. "Are you sure this wasn't you?" He gestured toward Erin's head. "You might have lost your mind and done that to her."
I opened my mouth to immediately dismiss the accusation, but stopped. Serial killers weren't necessarily known for being sane. I might have snapped and acted without knowing what I'd done, then blacked out.
I considered carefully, but I remembered every part of my morning. The last two hours were clear as day.
"I didn't kill her," I said finally. "I'm certain."
To be absolutely sure, I'd check the security cameras. I'd already asked Cass to look into the feed and make sure the cops didn't see anything incriminating.
Things not done by me. I deleted sections after I brought anyone in here for disposal. Or I'd turn the cameras off while I was working.
I had a feeling we wouldn't get a clear picture of Erin's murderer. You didn't go to these lengths without being careful. They wanted her death to be seen, but they'd continue to hide their identities.
He looked doubtful, but nodded. "Now you get why I don't want my brother involved with you. This could have been him."
"No it couldn't," I said softly. "It was her they wanted."
"Because of you," he insisted. "If she didn't work for you, she'd be alive right now. Wouldn't she?"
"Not necessarily," I said. It was possible, but until we knew who did this, we couldn't know for sure.
I shook my head slowly.
"Thank you for the…support. I'll be fine." I gave him a tight, not particularly sincere smile.
"I can't stand you, but you're not fine," he said. "How could anyone be fine after seeing this?"
He gestured around carefully, like he didn't want to risk brushing a hand against the blood that coated the walls.
Was that out of respect for Erin, or did he not want to get dirty?
I couldn't rule out the possibility that both were right.
When it came down to it, Jules Titmus wasn't a bad person, just an asshole to me.
I closed my eyes and let out a breath through my nose.
"Okay, I'm not fine. But you don't need to babysit me. It's nice of Cass to send you, but you can go and get on with your life."
Cass and the others were likely busy with work. Too busy to get here quickly.
"I'm not leaving until either the cops or my brother get here," he said, his jaw set with determination. "They might come back."
I hated to admit it, he was right. They could come back. And if they weren't alone, I could end up like her. I could take care of myself, but I wasn't superhuman. Two, three, four men and I'd be overpowered.
"Fine, you can stay," I said reluctantly. "We should wait outside and not touch anything."
Wasn't that what you were supposed to do when you found a crime scene? Instead of cleaning it up and disposing of the evidence? I wasn't used to being on this side of the situation. I never wanted to be again.
"I wasn't planning to touch anything," he said deliberately. Meaning me as well as Erin.
"Good. Wouldn't want you to end up in jail," I said. After a beat I added, "Or the hospital."
He barked a laugh as he headed back towards the door. "You think you can take me?"
"I know I can," I said.
I'd wait and let his arrogance get in the way. He'd make a mistake, then he'd be on the floor at my feet. If he was lucky, I might not break his bones.
That was negotiable.
He smirked over his shoulder. "Right."
Would the cops mind too much if I stopped by the kitchen, grabbed a knife and added his blood to Erin's?
Probably. Worse than that, Cass would mind. He seemed to have forgiven me for feeding him those meatballs, but killing his brother would be a dealbreaker.
"Believe it or not," Jules said as we stepped out into the morning air. "I'm sorry this happened to you and your friend. There's too many sick fucks out there."
"Yes, there are," I agreed. "Thank you. I just wish…"
"You got here in time?" he asked. "They might have killed you too."
"Do you care?" I cocked my head at him and kept half an ear out for the cops.
He shrugged. "No, but Cassius would. If you broke his heart by dying, I'd have to revive you so I could kill you myself."
"That's very touching," I said sarcastically.
"What can I say? I'm a sentimental guy." He leaned his palm against the wall beside my head.
"You're a guy who loves your brother," I said.
I'd give him that much. He was a prick, but he was a loyal prick. If anyone else asked him to come here, I doubted he would have.
"Yeah, I do." His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. "I don't know what he sees in you, but he seems to like you."
"Does that mean you're going to be nice to me?" I asked sweetly.
He snorted, his breath warm on my cheekbone. "Not a fucking chance. Never let it be said I wouldn't stay with someone when they need it. I'd do the same for anyone."
"Of course you would." I turned my gaze from him and watched down the alley as the first police car pulled up, tires crunching on uneven pavement and alley trash.