Chapter 4 – Lily
LILY
“You lied to me!” Liam’s desk rattles as I slam the newspaper on it in the middle of the precinct. “He killed again.”
He snatches the paper, then stands abruptly, eyes wide with an indecipherable emotion. A few officers glance our way, then quickly return to their own tasks. “Not here,” he states, walking away.
I step to follow him, and a tall, broad familiar figure slides in my way. “Breathe, Lil,” Jackson, Liam’s partner and best friend, says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Craning my neck, I find his brown eyes analyzing mine. “Would you like to be next on my shit list?”
He holds up both hands in surrender and fights a grin. “Just preventing you from acquiring a charge for assaulting an officer.”
“Appreciate the concern, Detective Carter.” I tap his cheek and walk past. “But you’d have to catch me first.”
Liam stands in the door frame of an interrogation room, and after I pass through, it clicks closed behind us.
The air is still, quiet, and thick with tension.
Glancing at the camera in the corner, I note the recording light is off.
“You need to calm down” are his first words, and I spin to face him.
“When in the history of ever have those words actually made a woman calm down?” I spout back, and his matching blue eyes bore into mine.
“I can explain.”
“Explain what?! How the Kodak Killer claimed another victim, and I had to find out from a newspaper article rather than my brother?”
He scratches the stubble on his jaw. “I was planning to tell you when I got home today.”
“I don’t live under a rock, Liam. You should have told me as soon as you knew.
You promised to keep me in the loop so I wouldn’t be fucking blindsided in the middle of the goddamn coffee shop.
Again.” Last time it was when the news came on during a date at a local sports bar.
That was super fun. Sorry, can’t screw tonight, just found out my bestie’s murderer has struck again!
“You’re right.” The victory of his admission doesn’t ease the ache gnawing at my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“You lied the other night. You said it was a mugging gone wrong.”
“That wasn’t a lie.” He shakes his head. “There was another victim.”
The temperature in the room rises as I unclench my fists. “What?”
“The murder near Joe’s was a different victim.”
I pace the room, my mind struggling to catch up. “So, you’re telling me after being in hiding for months, the Kodak Killer has resurfaced to kill not one but two people?”
“No, the murders seem unrelated.”
“Wonderful!” I throw my arms in the air. “So there are two killers in Cleosville. You know what? This is what we get for you saying how boring it’s gotten around here.”
“So it’s my fault?” He huffs a laugh, tone amused.
“I mean, you literally screamed into the universe how calm it’s been, and minutes later, victims started popping up like Whac-A-Mole.”
“Really?” He folds his arms across his chest. “You’re seriously blaming me for a double homicide?”
I roll my eyes with a groan, trying to jump-start the rational part of my brain. “Fine. I acquit you from blame.”
“How generous of you.”
I lean against the opposite wall, mirroring his pose. “Do you have any suspects? For either case?” He shakes his head, and frustration bubbles through me. “Great.”
“But we’re working on it around the clock. Just lie low until we figure it out. No more late-night Karma runs—”
“What?!” I push off the wall, my nostrils flaring. “I’m not agreeing to that.”
“There’s a serial killer on the loose.” Hearing the words out loud causes a paralyzing chill to crawl up my spine, raising the hair on the nape of my neck. “I can’t be focused on finding him if I’m worried about you. Not to mention the department’s increased patrol. Do you want to get caught?”
“This is bullshit!”
“Please, Lil?”
A huff of frustration tumbles out of me. “So what, I’m supposed to just go home and Netflix-and-chill as if a murderer, Violet’s murderer, isn’t roaming the streets, looking for their next victim?”
“Yes.” His tone is firm. “That’s exactly what you need to do.”
“I’m not agreeing to that.”
“Maybe you should go visit Mom and Dad for a few weeks,” he suggests.
“Now you want to ship me off to Florida?!” I love our parents, but I just don’t want to be around them right now. It’s hard enough to stay strong, and I know the second I fell in their arms, I’d collapse.
“I’m just trying to protect you.” His expression softens. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
My brows draw together. “Why would you lose me?”
“Well, possibility one, the fucking Kodak Killer gets you, and possibility two…” He trails off, eyes dropping to the floor.
“Possibility two, what?”
“Forget it.” He waves me off.
“Just tell me, Liam. Be real with me,” I beg. “I’m sick of this bullshit keeping secrets from each other. We never used to do that.”
“We both know you were… struggling. After Violet.”
Now it’s my turn to look away. Because he’s right.
I wasn’t just struggling, I was drowning.
The world was dark, and without Violet, I didn’t want to be in it anymore.
It took me months to find the will to live again.
And starting XO Karma gave me that purpose.
Any time I’ve had those dark thoughts about how fucked the world is, I convince myself it’s better for me to be here, delivering retribution and righting wrongs, rather than just giving up. “Well, I’m not struggling anymore.”
Another lie. I’m mostly okay, but grief doesn’t just dissipate one day, never to return.
It comes in waves. I’ll have weeks where I don’t grieve her, and then a memory, a photo, a laugh that sounds a little too close to hers hits me out of nowhere, and I’m right back to the first day, the photo of her corpse in the newspaper in my hands. The day everything went to shit.
“And that’s why I don’t want you anywhere near this,” Liam says, pulling me out of the dark abyss.
“What do you mean?”
“You get that far-off look in your eyes. I don’t want you being weighed down by everything that’s happening.”
“Liam.” I take a deep breath. “My literal job is trying to balance for the horrible shit that happens daily. And this, him, he’s the worst of the worst.”
“Yes, and you have to allow us”—he waves his hand around at the precinct—“to do our jobs too. You’re not going to make that easier by adding another body to the victim list.”
“Well, every victim provides additional evidence, doesn’t it?” I deadpan, and his brows furrow as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Relax, L. I’m kidding. I’m not interested in getting murdered for the sake of the investigation.”
“Exactly. So stay out of this.”
He’s clearly made up his mind, but so have I. Guess it’s time to put on my poker face. “Fine. I’ll lie low.”
His shoulders deflate, and he dons a sympathetic smile. “Thank you.”
He’s either super gullible or wants to believe I’ll do as he wishes. Regardless, I have no interest in prolonging this conversation. He must not either, as he opens the door of the interrogation room, gesturing me out.
“See you at home?” he asks.
I wave my arms around, the newspaper still clutched in my palm. “Where the hell else would I be?”
Back in the comfort of my bedroom, I kneel on the soft pink rug and reach under the bed. I tug out a floral rectangular storage box, set it on the mattress, and knock off the lid. A stack of newspapers stares at me, the one in my hand begging to be thrown inside.
Let them do their jobs?
Because they’ve been doing such a smashing job.
It’s been almost a year since Violet died.
Years longer that the Kodak Killer has been torturing this city.
Before Violet, I didn’t pay much attention, but there are eleven newspapers in the box from after her death alone.
Eleven victims whose time was cut short because some sociopath decided the thrill of the hunt was worth more than their life.
My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, my eyes locked on the contents of the box. The front door rattles shut, and moments later the stairs creak as someone ascends them. Annoyance courses through me. Maybe Liam wasn’t done with the fight, just done doing it in a public place.
“I’m not in the mood, L!” I call out, fumbling to secure the lid back on the box.
“Down, girl,” Jackson teases, leaning against my door frame, a hand behind his back. “I come in peace.”
“I’m going to ignore the fact you just spoke to me like a dog,” I say, attempting nonchalance, and leave the slightly ajar box on the bed.
“And unless you—” He brings his hand around, dangling an iced coffee my way, and my mouth waters.
“Bringing me treats isn’t really fighting the dog allegations. ”
He grins as I head toward him. “You’ve always been a little bit of a bloodhound.”
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.” I snatch the condensation-laced plastic cup.
“You should. And it is.”
I sip the sweet liquid, cooling my insides and dousing a fraction of my frustration. An iced coffee a day keeps the bitchy away. My eyes find his, and I fight a smile. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” He strolls further into the room. “I just came to check on you.”
“You mean Liam sent you to see if it’s safe to come home later?”
Jackson laughs, warm and easy. “He’s really so predictable, isn’t he?”
“I’m fine,” I assure him, plopping on the mattress, and the lid bounces off the box. Crap.
“Mm-hmm.” He comes closer, peering at its contents. “Whatcha got there?”
“Nothing.” I snatch the lid and toss it back on top. Jackson nudges it out of the way and hooks his finger on the box, tugging it towards him. “Jax, don’t.” He removes a few papers and flips through them.
His sympathetic brown eyes meet mine. “Are they all in there?”
I clench my jaw. “Most of them.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t find some of the ones from before Violet’s death.”
“No, I mean, why do you have them?”
“Why the hell do you think?” Jackson may not know about my Karma activities, but he knows how much Violet’s death destroyed me. It’s not a stretch I’d be looking for answers.