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“No. He wants people to be scared. To fear him. That would give him power. Alethea was the sister of a Prime. Other Primes will soon wonder if one of their own relatives will be targeted. Her killer said that I’d be next, but that won’t make anyone feel at all reassured. They’ll be worried, off-balance, and won’t know what to think.”
“Which he’ll love.”
“Yes, I think he will.” Knox traced her hipbones with his thumbs. “The Primes will likely want a meeting to discuss the issue. I doubt any of them will be prepared to step down, no matter how worried they are, but they’ll want to address the matter.”
“We should call the meeting ourselves. If it’s in Vegas, we won’t have to travel.” She didn’t want to leave Asher behind, but she’d be unwilling to take him along.
“I’ll have Levi arrange it.” Knox dabbed a light, lingering kiss on her mouth. “We’ll talk more later. Enjoy your bagel.”
Returning to his office, Knox gave Levi orders to arrange a meeting for the Primes and then pulled up the YouTube footage on his computer. His monitor was large, so Knox had a much better view than he’d had on Levi’s cell.
He watched the recording again, this time with a critical eye. Watched the way the Horseman moved, observed their body language, and noted their clothing. He also examined the background, looking for clues as to their location.
They didn’t move like a woman, he thought. There was a male swagger there, a masculine confidence in each step. Although it was difficult to be sure of their build, they didn’t appear to have any feminine curves. Their clothes were dark and plain, from what he could tell.
As he reached the part where the Horseman placed their hand on Alethea’s head, Knox paused the footage and zoomed in on the hand. Thick, masculine fingers. No long nails
. In fact, they were cut to the quick. Their skin was white, but not pale. Caucasian male, Knox decided.
No matter how close Knox zoomed into the footage, he couldn’t discern any objects in the background. If he had to guess, he’d say the wall paint was dark, as no color at all lightened the shadows. It appeared to be an empty, drab room. A basement, perhaps.
After spending a good half hour studying the Horseman and the background, Knox replayed the footage again. This time, he concentrated on Alethea. At that moment, she didn’t look at all like an encantada—a female sex demon. Oh, her preternatural allure was still there, but it was tainted by the sheer terror in her watery eyes. Not just terror … betrayal. She had known the Horseman. Known them well enough that she felt betrayed by their actions.
Her hair wasn’t disheveled and, aside from her smudged mascara, her make-up was perfectly in place. As such, Knox doubted she’d been held prisoner. He couldn’t be sure what length of time she’d been with the Horseman, but Knox didn’t believe she’d been there against her will—at least not initially.
Watching it a second time, Knox concentrated on the part where she’d first mouthed something. Despite that he had a close-up view of her face, lipreading wasn’t easy.
“Watching the clip again?”
Knox looked up as Harper walked in. “Baby, you don’t want to see this, trust me on that. You certainly don’t want to look at it when you not long ago ate.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Remind me when I’ve ever been delicate.” She rounded his sleek black, U-shaped executive desk and peered at one of the multiple computer screens. She was so used to seeing Alethea smug and bitchy that it was a distinct shock to see the encantada looking so afraid. Harper knew how it felt to be held captive; to know that your life was in the hands of another. And death by hellfire—that would have been agonizing.
“I’m looking for clues that might help identify who this person was and just where Alethea was killed,” said Knox.
Harper turned to him. “Any ideas?”
“At this point, I’m quite sure that the Horseman is, in fact, a man. Caucasian. Confident. He knew Alethea well, and she’d trusted him to some extent. You can see the hint of betrayal in her eyes if you look beneath the terror.”
Harper leaned closer to the screen. “You’re right. What’s she trying to say?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He rewound the clip slightly. “Here, it seems like she’s saying, ‘Please.’ Then she pauses, licks her lips, and mouths, ‘Don’t do this.’ The Horseman chats about how the US Primes must fall, and then—just before he sets her alight—she tries to say something else, but I can’t quite work out what.”
“Play it for me.” Harper leaned toward the screen again and concentrated on the movement of Alethea’s mouth. “You’re. Dead. She’s saying, ‘You’re dead.’”
Knox nodded, able to see it clearly now. “She says the next part so fast I can’t understand it, but it seems like she’s trying to tell him, ‘He’ll get through.’ Get through what? And who’s ‘he’?”
Harper watched that part of the clip and then shook her head. “No, not ‘get’. She’s not mouthing a ‘g’ sound, she’s mouthing a ‘k’ sound. He’ll … kill … you. She practically spits the words, that’s why it’s hard to make it out, but I’m leaning towards, ‘He’ll kill you.’ By ‘he’ I think she meant you.”
It would make sense, since the Horseman had just been chatting about getting rid of Knox. “I think you may be right.”
“Why couldn’t she have mouthed something helpful like his name or something?”
Knox was thinking the very same thing. “I was hoping she might have tried to communicate something that would give us a clue.”
“Have you tried calling Jonas yet?”
“Yes. He’s not answering, which doesn’t surprise me. If he’s grieving, it’s unlikely that he’ll be interested in speaking with anyone.”
