Page 13 of Lone Wolf

The track stopped on Okonkwo’s phone. With a squeak of her heels against the bathtub, she slid up and shoved her mask to her forehead with the heel of her hand.

She clocked Karissa standing over her and started. Her eyes narrowed, pupils tightening, a hard intelligence concentrating in her stare. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my bathroom?”

Karissa dropped the power strip into the water.

A faint fizzle.

And nothing else.

Karissa sighed.

With all the safety codes and regulations these days it was getting harder and harder to stage a basic accident. Arc-fault circuit interrupters, OSHA-approved wiring, surge protectors, and self-grounding outlets in wet and dry rooms alike. Some bathtubs were even plumbed with plastic pipe to reduce the likelihood of an electrical current.

It was like they were trying to put her out of work.

Okonkwo stared down at the power strip that had plopped between her legs, then followed the snake of the plugged-in cord over the lip of the tub. Her gaze rose to find Karissa’s.

What fear it held was quickly overtaken by anger.

“Damn,” Karissa said. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We’ll have to go another way.”

Okonkwo’s hands sloshed up in unison to grip the sides of the tub to hasten her rise.

Karissa moved in a flash, leaning over the water, cupping the balls of Okonkwo’s shoulders and plunging her to the bottom. Clamping her neck would’ve been easier, of course, but that would leave bruises and bruises would leave questions.

A burst of Okonkwo’s breath bubbled up immediately, scared out of her, which meant a quicker route to the desired outcome. Her hands rose to slap at Karissa’s biceps and her knees windshield-wipered, spilling water over the brim.

There’d be some mop-up work, but not much.

Karissa took care to keep her grip even on the shoulders. She wanted no contusions, no fingernail scrapes.

Homicidal drowning was nearly impossible to prove and far less likely than the obvious story; a hot bath and marijuana had dilated Okonkwo’s blood vessels, causing her to faint and slip beneath the surface.

Occam’s razor was a helpful bitch.

Karissa’s shirt was drenched, her sleeves plunged in to the elbows. Okonkwo bucked one last time, her back arcing. Her feet were still jerking but there was no power in her anymore, just her nervous system shuddering to a halt. The foam at the surface had cleared, allowing Karissa to stare straight down in Okonkwo’s eyes. There was hatred in them and then an empty sort of peacefulness.

Tiny bubbles clung to her eyelashes.

Karissa held her under for a few more minutes. And then let go.

With filled lungs, Okonkwo’s body did not rise.

Karissa sat back on her heels and caught her breath.

Now she’d ticked two out of three off her quarterly cleanup. She was pleased with her improvisation; preserving a staged accident was key for two reasons.

She didn’t like patterns.

And she’d planned the next one as an evident homicide.

7

Orphan X and the Case of the Missing

Dog

The picture Sofia had chosen for the flyer was patently ridiculous. Loco mounted in a front carrier over Sofia’s sternum, his legs splayed as if he were parachuting. One enormous ear was enormouser than the other. Bulging wet eyes. Jaws parted slightly, the tip of his tongue hanging blissfully over the jagged row of his bottom teeth, which seemed rammed into the gums at random angles.