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“Hey, Jay. I need a favor. I need a top-of-the-line security system installed yesterday.” I give him the address and tell him exactly what I want.
He whistles. “It won’t be cheap.”
“I don’t give a fuck how much it costs; just do it.”
“Okay. I’ll do it myself tomorrow morning. I’ll just rearrange my other clients.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah, well, you’re making it worth my while, so I can’t complain.”
He hangs up, so I put the phone in its cradle and turn back to Hask.
“You don’t think you should have asked Rue first?”
“No. I don’t want her to think she’s got a choice. I’d rather she be alive and pissed than fucking dead.”
“Well, at least we can agree on that.” He stands and straightens his jacket. “So, can anyone corroborate your alibi?”
I shake my head and laugh, but there is no joy in it.
“When are you going to get it? I’m not the fucking Lullaby Killer.”
“You have a relationship with Rue. You’ve been inside her house. You could have taken that video of her sleeping and left the music box.”
“And give you an even bigger hard-on for me? Yeah, right.”
“It wouldn’t have taken much for you to sneak into the theater today and change the films.”
“So, I’m guilty when I spend time with Rue and guilty if I don’t. Are you even looking for the killer, or are you just hoping to pin it all on me?”
“You have a history with these victims.”
“Bullshit, Hask. I knew one of them because he was a psychiatrist at Briarwood when I was there. I didn’t know the others, and Rue was never a patient.”
“No, but her sister was.”
I clench my fists and growl, barely refraining from ripping his throat out. “I never met her sister. I didn’t even know she was a patient at the same time I was until you questioned me. You’re like one of those people who thinks everyone who lives in London knows the royal family. Briarwood House was a nightmare. There was a reason it was closed down, and a bunch of people were fired. I was there for a fraction of the time that others were, and I came out and made a better life for myself. It’s no secret I hated the place, I never hid that, but I don’t have an axe to grind over it either. I guarantee you there will be hundreds that do though, yet I don’t see you beating down their doors every five minutes.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I walk around my desk and open my office door. “While you’re wasting your time on me, the real killer is out there, just waiting to strike.”
“You talk a good game, Ward, but everyone knows you’re not as squeaky clean as you pretend to be.”
“I don’t pretend to be anything. You just want the honor of being the one to take me down.”
“I want to catch a killer?—”
“Not because you want to keep people safe. Because you want the glory. Now get the fuck out of my office, and don’t come back without a warrant.”
He looks around the room, allowing his dislike to show, his eyes moving over the files on the floor before stopping on my beat-up sneakers I wore in. “All your money and you dress like a homeless bum.”
“Careful there, detective. Your prejudice is showing.”
I don’t point out I have suits that cost more than he makes in a year because he knows that already. He’s just scraping the barrel of insults today because he has nothing new to say.
Fauna walks toward the open door with a cup of coffee in her hand.
Hask adopts a fake-as-shit smile for her and sees himself out. “Catch you later, Ward.”
