“Dead. She was the love of my life. I lost her to cancer five years ago. I’m never going to marry again. There’s no way to follow what me and Nora had.”
Emotions radiate off of him, but I don’t say I’m sorry. He’s heard that a million times the past two weeks since his son died. It’s not what he wants from me. “When was the last time you saw Grayson?”
“The day he died. It was a Friday. We had lunch together. It was a good lunch. We were going to rule the real estate world together. Me, him, and Natalie. He was going to propose to her on Valentine’s Day.”
“Where did you have lunch?”
“Santiago’s. A little Mexican restaurant near the office.”
“Anything happen there, or any time, or place that day that stood out?”
“Nothing. It was a normal day. Until it wasn’t.”
I spend the next twenty minutes asking random questions about friends, co-workers, Natalie’s family, customers, and more. When I’ve exhausted the obvious, I pull a sheet of paper from my bag and a pen and slide it in front of him. “I know this will feel like a futile effort, but I promise you, it’s helped me catch some very bad people. Write down everything you can think of. Every place you frequent. Every place he frequented. Customers’ names that rubbed you wrong. Women you dated who you might have made angry—and yes, I know that’s a long shot, but you never know when some odd connection shows up. I can’t make those connections if you don’t give me information in excess. We’ll plug it in a computer and look for the tiniest connection.”
He doesn’t look at the paper. “They say serial killers gravitate to you.”
I should probably be uncomfortable with that statement, but I’m not. I’m aware there are a lot of little things like that about me that are not normal, but those things are exactly why I have a high solve ratio. “Let’s hope whoever ‘they’ are, have that right. Because then your son’s killer comes looking for me. And I’ll be ready to make him pay for hurting Grayson when that happens.”
He studies me for several beats and he says, “I believe you.”
“I’m glad you do.”
He picks up the pen and starts writing. For twenty minutes, and four sheets of paper he writes. When he’s done, I shake his hand. “Don’t talk to too many people about this right now. Give me time to work.”
“Work fast.”
“I will.” It’s an easy promise because I will.
I walk him to the door, and Kit and Jay step in front of me. “Well?” Kit asks.
“I have one less interview to do tomorrow.”
A few minutes later, I walk into the apartment, grab a bag of Cheetos and a bottle of water, and head upstairs to Purgatory. It might be a pizza day. I really need a pizza. I’d just kicked off my shoes and settled on the floor to read through Kellerman’s notes when I received a text message. It’s from Murphy: I’ve been called into the FBI headquarters for a meeting. Call me tomorrow and fill me in on your case.
In other words, drinks are off. It could be nothing, but it feels like he’s running, but I can’t go down that rabbit hole right now. I just sat with a father and promised him I’d work fast. I scan the notes and send them to Tic Tac. Once they send, I’m about to dig into my work, when Lucas calls. “Hey, cuz,” he says, and I immediately want to tell him about the affair, but on some level, he knows. Just like I did. “How was the honeymoon?”
“It was great until I came home to a serial killer. Any luck on the horror junkies?”
“I tracked a couple of frequent users who seem like real creeps and sent them to Tic Tac. I got an invite to your dad’s rally. I’m going to come to the city and stay a few days. I figure I’ll go to a couple of horror fanatic group meetings and just see if I get a sniff.”
“Stay behind your computer. You aren’t trained in the field.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got this. When are we having dinner to catch up?”
“I’ll go to a meeting with you as your bodyguard, and then we can do dinner.”
“I like that. I like it a lot. You going to the rally and saying: ‘fuck you, daddy’?”
“I’m going,” I say. “And so is Kane.”
“Really? Kane?”
“Yes. Yes, he is. My father wants him there. You know, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ Dad and hubby are both playing that card.”
“And you?”
“I’ve always got a card. Call me when you get in town. I have to go.”
“Yes, but—”
I hang up. It’s a thing. I always hang up on him. He loves it.