It doesn’t add up. And as a detective myself I’d throw my hands up and walk away if someone even suggested that wasn’t just a little beyond suspicious.
Hell, it’s a guy like that who would andshouldbe suspect number one.
But there’s never been any connection between the victims of the crimes I helped solve.
On paper, like in real life. I never met them until it was either too late, or only saw them for the first time once the crime was reported.
I never mentioned my not-so-little ‘gift’ to anyone, but it was pretty clear once the bodies started piling up, and I was the only one with answers that I had to get out.
That and the Harry Holmes ex-con glee club who’d all still like to pay me a visit. Help me hit the high notes as they play an unchained melody on a chainsaw using my body as a bow.
It’s just too fucking weird a thing to have in the public eye. Once some case files were leaked to the media it was a circus for a few months before the chief, Frank. He took me aside and suggested I go private.
And now, just like then. Especially after last night, I still feel the same.
Badge or no badge.
I can’t save ‘em all.
I don’t know how or why as much as the next guy.
I can only do what I can, when I can.
And for once, I think I surprise Frank by sounding more like him than myself for once.
“Coincidence.” I shrug. After he’s filled me in on the details of the two other deaths since my lucky ticket guy got a lead facial.
Three in one night, that’s more than just coincidence. And we both know it.
Even Frank winces when I say it. And I’m trying to sound like I believe it myself.
But detectives don’t like the ‘C’ word.
“C’mon, Harry! I called you in on this because it’s… Well… It’s right up your alley!” he growls, slamming his palm against the steering wheel before honking at another driver and giving him the finger.
“A guy gets a jackpot winning scratch ticket, and minutes later he’s dead. And the two other people who come into contact with the exact same ticket all end up dead in less than twenty-four hours?”
I keep my expression blank, but my mind and my heart are already racing.
A winning ticket.
A girl.
The one.
The alarm in my gut has a new element as the thought pulses through me. More than a thought. And stronger than the same feeling I had last night.
“So why are you taking me to the morgue, Frank?” I ask. “Show and tell?”
He gives me a dark sidelong look.
“I can show ya, Harry… But it’syouI want to do the telling,” he growls cryptically.
I’ve seen plenty of victims in my career. Mostly deceased, and not always as a picture in my head.
People die and they leave their bodies behind. That’s what I used to call ‘evidence’. So it’s no great shock to visit the morgue.
Frank does show me.