27. Maddox #2
Mason blinked, staring at the spot where she had been. “Should one of us go after her?”
Kreed scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion bleeding through the anger. “No, let her cool off. Give her a few minutes.”
“What are we going to do with him?” I asked, jerking his chin toward the guard.
“Mason and I got this.” Raine wiped the blood from his blade over his pants.
“Have we gotten any information on the notes yet?” Kreed directed at me. “Do we still think it's a possible way of marking the girls?”
“Paisley's looking into it,” I informed. “She’s talking with people close to the victims to see if any of them said anything about receiving notes.”
“Is it wise to involve her?” Kreed’s brows drew together. “Can she actually be trusted?”
I shot my twin a pointed glare. "As long as Mason stops being a grade-A dick to her.”
“How is this on me?” Mason protested.
“You know what you did,” I snorted. “What we both did.” It wasn’t entirely on Mason despite wanting him to shoulder the blame.
“Exactly why she can’t be trusted with this,” Mason shot back, but there was less conviction in his voice now.
“What other choice do we have? They won’t talk to us, but Paisley, her reputation is a lot less tarnished than ours. They’ll be more comfortable sharing with her, and we need them to feel safe enough to open up, remember details they might have forgotten or overlooked.”
“It’s a good thing you’re fucking her new bestie.” Sarcasm with a tad of jealousy laced Mason’s words. He might not want to admit it, but I had a suspicion he had a thing for Paisley once. A small thing, but he’d ruined it in typical Corvo fashion…by being a prick.
My lips curved. “Jealous it’s me instead of you?”
“For once, no,” Mason scoffed. “Clearly, you needed the lay more than I did.”
“Fuckfaces!” Kreed barked, stepping between Mason and me. “Can we stop bickering among ourselves for two damn minutes, especially in front of our guest?”
As if we all suddenly realized the guard had gone quiet, our four heads turned in his direction. He was slumped forward in the chair as far as his restraints would allow, breathing hard through a broken nose. Each inhale whistled wetly, blood bubbling at his nostrils.
I’d had enough for today. This shit was starting to wear on me, and we were far from over. “He isn’t going to be any use to us tonight. I’m going home. I have homework I need to finish before tomorrow morning.”
“Just another fucking Thursday night in the Corvo family,” Mason muttered.
“I’ll catch you at home later. Enjoy the Thai.
” I cast one last glance at Kaylor through the glass wall separating this room and the office she’d stormed off into.
She looked like she could use a drink more than I could, and normally, I would sneak a bottle from downstairs and share it with her, but tonight, I didn’t have it in me.
I was so twisted up inside. About her. About Hales.
And all the shit in between, pulling blindly on threads, yet they only seem to get knotted.
I couldn’t shake the fucking feeling that Hales and Kaylor were somehow mixed up in the same shit, just different ends of the rope.
Kreed caught up with me as I headed toward the stairs. “Before you go, I got the information you asked for.”
Shit, that was quick. “Yeah?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen once with his thumb before holding it out for me.
“The plate number you sent belongs to some middle-aged dude with really bad hair,” Kreed informed as I scanned the photo of a man I’d never seen.
“Nolan Cross. He has a clean record. No priors. He’s a cop for some Podunk town. ”
I frowned slightly, scrolling through the information displayed on screen. Reading the details twice to make sure I wasn’t missing something. A fucking cop? What the hell was he doing sniffing around Hales’s house?
“You know better than to mess with cops. Especially cops outside of Elmwood, even if they’re from the boonies.”
This didn’t feel like some opportunistic stalker or lovesick teenager leaving notes, but I wished it was. I could deal with the latter. But a cop? “And the blade?” I asked.
Kreed shook his head. “I couldn’t get anything useful on it. No manufacturer markings. No serial numbers. Nothing I could trace through normal channels.” He pulled the knife out of his back pocket. “It’s custom-made,” he muttered.
“Not something you’d toss away in a pizza box.”
“Me personally, no.” He tilted it slightly, angling the blade to catch the light better. “Look here.”
I leaned closer, squinting at where he was pointing. Right where the hilt met the steel was a tiny engraving. So small it was almost invisible unless you knew where to look, unless the light hit it just right. A mark. “It has a signature.”
Kreed nodded. He flipped it in his hand, catching the knife by the blade and offering me the hilt. “You got yourself an expensive stalker with taste. Or your girl does.”
“She’s not my girl,” I grumbled, taking the knife from him.
Kreed raised a brow, his gray eyes twinkling. “I’ve said that before.”
I tucked the blade behind my back. “She’s my lab partner. We’re hanging out.”
“You mean you’re sleeping with her,” he corrected, giving me a small smirk.
I frowned, not ready to dissect any feelings I might be having one way or the other about Hales. “Does it matter?”
“It might if you think this is connected to the missing girls.” Any humor in his expression extinguished. Kreed’s default setting was serious. “It means she could be their next victim.”
Fire radiated through my gut. A few hours ago, I would have drawn the line from the stalking notes to the trafficking ring in one straight shot.
Now?
Now I wasn’t sure of anything.
But it wasn’t hard for me to believe a cop could be involved. I’d grown up understanding money could get even the most honorable people to sway. My father had more than a few cops on his payroll.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know, but I’ve got a bad feeling.”
Kreed’s brow furrowed, concern bleeding through his usual controlled expression. “Yeah, that makes two of us.”
“We need to figure out who made this knife. And we need to do it fast.”
“I’ll make some calls,” Kreed said, already reaching for his phone. “I know a few people who deal in custom work who might recognize the mark. I’ve got photos I can send. I’ll see if Raine can do some reverse searches.”