“And the ticket? Has she got the ticket?” His old boss snaps out of habit, cutting Harry off, but instead of taking it personally, Harry motions with his hands for Frank to take the floor.
It is his office after all, and he is the cop out of the three of us.
“You’ll have to ask Megan that yourself,” Harry smiles knowingly.
I feel my insides clench up. Having forgotten all about that stupid ticket stuck to my shoe, I would never have thought it could’ve been—
“Wha-what happened to those people?” I ask Frank.
Suddenly joining the dots in my mind. Maybe that wasn’t ketchup and breadcrumbs on the ticket… And it’s still in my handbag. Ew.
But Frank’s the one asking the questions, and he lets me know that by firing a short volley of ‘em. Ignoring my own.
“You found a scratch ticket, Megan? I need to know if you still have it, and I need you to think very carefully about whether anyone’s been following you,” he says firmly.
He glances at his watch, making me feel under pressure even though I really have no idea what he’s talking about.
“What’s so special about the ticket?” I gulp. Somehow knowing already it’s more than just a blood and hair sample.
Frank looks to Harry, frowning again, blowing air out of his nostrils.
“It’s worth a million dollars to whoever can prove it belongs to them, for starters,” Harry replies, cocking his brow. Making me feel dizzy all of a sudden.
A million dollars? I can’t even—
Oh, wait… After tax. And with inflation… A million bucks really isn’t that much these days.
But it’s sure as hell more money than I know what to do with right now.
“That’s for a judge to decide, Harry, not us. It’souronly chance at finding any conclusive DNA evidence… if there is an active killer on the loose,” Frank butts in. Giving Harry a strange look.
All our eyes shift to the space on the floor where my handbag is.
Lying on its side now, unzipped. Looking like it’s about to throw up after hearing what it’s been carrying since this morning.
Without asking, Frank lifts the bag by its handles with a pen. Harry passes him a large zip lock bag marked ‘evidence’ from the desk he seems to know pretty well.
“Sorry, Megan,” Frank sighs heavily, only relaxing once my bag is inside the evidence bag and he’s sealed it shut.
“We’ll need to hang onto all of this for now. But we’ll get your things back to you as soon as we can.
I feel an instant pang of panic.
My cards, my keys… A million dollar scratch ticket.
But the alarm bells I feel ringing inside me tell me that there’s more to all this than just a lucky ticket or my bag of clutter.
“Did you sayactivekiller?” I hear myself ask, looking at Harry. The one man I know can keep me safe but from a psycho killer?
“We don’t know that.Yet,” Frank clips, sounding annoyed again.
“But everyone who’s had the ticket since it was purchased has met a grisly end, Megan… And in record time,” he adds for effect. And it works.
I feel a chill run over me, and it’s not from the A/C pumping out arctic air.
“Except me,” Harry says abruptly.
Both of us turn to look up at him once he stands.