Babe, Jazz invited me to her house for a glass of wine. Renovations are done. She thought you and Russell could meet us later at his restaurant. Does that work for you?
“Mr. Santini?” Malcolm asked.
“I’m here.”
“He was here, yesterday afternoon.”
“Can you send me the video of him in the parking lot?”
“You got it.”
“I’m gonna need that ASAP,” Carrera replied.
Slash
Slash pulledup in front of Jazz’s house, an older home in a busy section of Arlington. Rain pelted the windshield while the rumbling thunder grew closer. She turned off the wipers, cut the engine, and hurried to the front door.
A few seconds after ringing the doorbell, Russell opened the door.
“Hey, Slash, c’mon in.” He moved out of the way so she could step inside. “Pretty wet out there, huh?”
The quaint living room was filled with a new-looking sofa, a matching chair, and a TV mounted on the wall.
“I heard your renovations are done,” she said.
“Mostly,” he replied. “Jazz is excited to move in. She’s been cleaning like a fiend. I told her I’d hire someone, but she’s on a tear.” He laughed.
“Where is she?”
“Basement,” Russell said. “I’m heading back to my campaign headquarters, but Jazz says we’re meeting up at my restaurant in an hour.”
He stepped outside, turned back. “Make yourself at home,” he said, and shut the door behind him.
Slash’s phone buzzed. She lifted it from her pocket, read the text from Carrera.
Hey, babe, Greg went to visit Karen in prison yesterday. I’ll see you at the restaurant. Love you
I love you too.
“Hey, Slash, can you help me?” Jazz called.
Slash walked down the hall, stopping in front of the open door to the basement. The lone bulb at the top of the stairs bathed the room in diffused light.
Down the steps she went. At the bottom, the room was small, like a waiting room but without furniture. On the opposite wall was a doorway. Muted light from the room beyond beckoned her forward.
Slash walked over, pausing in the doorway.
“What the hell?”
A hand-held voice recorder sat on a table.
“Hey, Slash, can you help me?” Jazz called from the recorder.
The basement door at the top of the stairs slammed shut, followed by the snap of a lock being thrown. Then, the lights went out, plunging her in total darkness.
And dread filled her soul.
