Chapter 35 – Lily #2
“I’ve been up there since she died,” I say, exiting the room, and he trails behind me. “But only to move some boxes around.”
A minute later we’re in the dusty attic, the only light coming from a small window.
We step carefully through the dusty room, the wooden floor creaking beneath us.
“I swear this house was built in, like, the 1800s,” I tell Aster while racking my brain for the spot where Violet used to keep the weed when we were teenagers.
It was near a lamp, which is now gone. Closing my eyes, I sift through memories, and the realization hits me. Turning, I find an old dresser and go over to it. Kneeling, I reach under and find a loose board. “I think it’s here.”
Aster and I shove the dresser out of the way. He pulls out a switch blade, sticks it between the planks, and pops the piece of wood off. He tosses it to the side with a clatter, and I shine my flashlight in.
A silver pistol glints at me.
A gun?
Violet hated guns. She always made Liam leave his locked in a safe by the front door when she was home. I grab the weapon off a leather bag, then Aster reaches in, and tugs it out. I glance at the pistol in my hands, racking my brain for any memory of it, and finding none.
“Lily.” Aster’s tone raises alarm bells, and I glance over to the sight of the leather bag tumbling open to reveal different knives in a variety of sizes and shapes.
“I don’t understand… She didn’t like weapons.”
His cocked brow says he disagrees. “She had a funny way of going about it, then.”
“Maybe it was exposure therapy?” I suggest weakly.
“What? Keep a secret stash of knives and Glocks so you’re not afraid of them anymore? Surely you’re not that naive.”
Anger bubbles under the surface. “I am not naive. But I knew her. You didn’t.”
“Yes, but sometimes we can be blinded the closer we are to someone. You stop looking to learn new things. You don’t question behavior. You just simply exist near one another.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
My mind wanders back to the last few months before Violet’s death, and my stomach sinks. Aster’s right. We were more roommates than best friends those days. We had opposite schedules, and when we were both home, we mainly just binged true crime documentaries and ate our weight in chips and dip.
It was all so… surface level.
I return the gun to the hole, then sit on the floor. “How could I have been so blind?”
A bit of rustling, and Aster takes a seat next to me. “It happens to the best of us.”
“What does this even mean though? It still doesn’t give us any indication of who killed her, only that maybe, and that’s a very big maybe, she was doing more than just procuring paintings.”
“It could also just be for protection,” Aster suggests. “Maybe some of her clients were dangerous and she wanted to be prepared.”
“Lot of good that did her,” I whisper.
“Do you think Liam would give you her case file?”
I release a heavy sigh. “Possibly.” After a ton of explaining. I could just steal it, but there’s also a part of me that’s sick of all the lies.
“Maybe there’s something in it about who her last clients were before her death.”
“Maybe.” I’m trying not to feel defeated, but every answer opens a hundred more questions.
One Day Later
Me
where are you?
Liam
What are you MY keeper now?
Me
….
Liam
At home in my office
Strolling through the door, I hold my head high. I need Violet’s file, and I’m not letting Liam give me no for an answer. His desk is empty, but Jackson stands by the window. Shit. I didn’t realize he’d be here. His cruiser’s not outside.
“Hey,” I say to Jackson.
“Hey.” He smiles. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” Great, in fact. I’m fucking one serial killer and unable to locate the other. “Where’s Liam? He said he was home.”
“He was just grabbing something from—”
“Hey, Lil,” my brother says, walking through the door, rolling up his sleeves. “What do you need?”
“Nice to see you too.” I smile sweetly, and he cocks a brow. “Fine. I would like to look over Violet’s file.” Jackson snorts, heading for the door. I glare at him. So much for witnesses.
“See you at the car,” Jackson tells Liam, exiting the room, and seconds later, the front door slams shut.
Liam crosses his arms over his chest. “Why?”
“Because she was my best friend, and I…” My voice trails off. “I just want to read through it.” He breaks eye contact, opening a drawer and digging around. Turning to me, he holds out a small piece of paper. “What’s that?”
“The number for the station psychologist,” he says, and my jaw drops. “She said she could do a few sessions with you as a courtesy.”
I swat the paper out of his hand. Do I need a therapist?
Probably. But I damn sure am not going to tell a state-appointed one about my current lifestyle and how it turns me on when my boyfriend—er, fuck buddy—mentions spying on me while I masturbate.
“I asked for Violet’s case file, not advice.
I know you have an extra copy here.” I’ve caught him reading it late at night more times than I can count.
“You need to get closure. Acceptance.” Hypocrite.
“Yeah, and this file could do that!”
He sighs. “I promise nothing in there is going to bring you peace.”
“Why won’t you just let me see it?”
“Lily.” His tone is sharp. “There are graphic details of her death. Photos.”
“I’ve seen the photos.”
“No.” He shakes his head, cracking his knuckles. “You’ve only seen the publicly released photos.”
“What?”
“You think those are the only images the Kodak Killer supplies?” he scoffs.
“I don’t understand.”
He releases a heavy breath, grabbing a different folder off his desk and handing it to me. Opening it, I note the name Karolyn Heinzel at the top. My hand covers my mouth at the sight of almost a dozen photos of her deceased body. It shows every wound on her skin. Her vacant stare. Broken bones.
I stumble back, sitting in Jackson’s seat. “I don’t understand.”
“We’ve gotten far more photos for the victims than are ever released to the public, Lily. The Solarium usually picks the least graphic ones.”
“How do you get them?” I ask, curious if Aster’s been telling me the full truth.
“We usually receive an email a day or two after the victim disappears.”
My stomach twists. “Why didn’t you tell me about the extra photos?”
“This is my job,” he says as if I need a reminder. “I don’t tell you about all my cases.”
“But this.” I wave the folder at him. “This you should have told me.”
“What difference would it have made?”
“I’ve been searching for Kodak for months,” I say quietly, tone exasperated. He bites his inner cheek, expression lacking surprise, and my lips part. “That’s why you didn’t tell me?” Anger bubbles within me. “You don’t want me to find him?”
“Of course I want him found.”
“You just can’t accept that it might be me who does it?”
“How many times do I have to beg you to let me keep you safe?” His eyes are glossy and pleading.
“I don’t need you to keep me safe,” I snap, rage erupting as I stand, then rush towards him.
“I need you to give me that goddamn file or so help me god, I really will move out. I’m not living under the same roof as someone who’s willingly withholding information that could help me catch Violet’s killer. ”
“I could lose my job. Don’t you realize that? I can’t just give you files because you want them.”
“When the hell has that ever stopped you before?” I shriek. “You don’t think you’d lose your job if they found out you knew I was Karma?”
“They won’t.” His tone is firm, and for both our sakes, I hope he’s right.
“Then what’s one more little secret?” I ask, batting my lashes.
“I want him found too,” he repeats, tone softening. “But I’m not willing to add your body to the evidence that gets me there.”
I grit my teeth. “Have you so little faith in me?”
His brows furrow, moisture in his eyes that I ignore before my empathy overtakes my anger. “I just love you.”
“I love you too, Liam.” I release a heavy sigh as my chest aches.
“And I loved Violet… I know you did too.” He looks at the floor, and I reach out and place a hand on his arm.
His eyes meet mine once more, and there’s an emotion in them I can’t quite decipher.
Sadness? Regret? “Please. Please just let me look at the file. I have to do this.”
Our stare lasts for what feels like hours. He drags a hand through his blond hair, curses at the ceiling, then says, “Fuck it.” After heading to his desk, he opens a drawer, retrieves another file, and hands it my way. “If you think it’ll help.”
I blink rapidly at the folder in my grasp. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Thank you!” I say, throwing an arm around him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, patting my back. “And Lily?”
Our eyes meet. “Yes?”
“You find anything, you call me first, okay?”
And then I tell him the second lie of the day. “Okay.”