Page 14 of XO Karma

Let them do their jobs?

Because they’ve been doing such a smashing job. It’s been almost a year since Violet died. Years longer that the Kodak Killer has been torturing this city. Before Violet, I didn’t pay much attention, but there are eleven newspapers in the box from after her death alone. Eleven victims whose time was cut short because some sociopath decided the thrill of the hunt was worth more than their life.

My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, my eyes locked on the contents of the box. The front door rattles shut, and moments later the stairs creak as someone ascends them. Annoyance courses through me. Maybe Liam wasn’t done with the fight, just done doing it in a public place.

“I’m not in the mood, L!” I call out, fumbling to secure the lid back on the box.

“Down, girl,” Jackson teases, leaning against my door frame, a hand behind his back. “I come in peace.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact you just spoke to me like a dog,” I say, attempting nonchalance, and leave the slightly ajar box on the bed. “And unless you—” He brings his hand around, dangling an iced coffee my way, and my mouth waters. “Bringing me treats isn’t really fighting the dog allegations.”

He grins as I head toward him. “You’ve always been a little bit of a bloodhound.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.” I snatch the condensation-laced plastic cup.

“You should. And it is.”

I sip the sweet liquid, cooling my insides and dousing a fraction of my frustration. An iced coffee a day keeps the bitchy away. My eyes find his, and I fight a smile. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” He strolls further into the room. “I just came to check on you.”

“You mean Liam sent you to see if it’s safe to come home later?”

Jackson laughs, warm and easy. “He’s really so predictable, isn’t he?”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, plopping on the mattress, and the lid bounces off the box. Crap.

“Mm-hmm.” He comes closer, peering at its contents. “Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing.” I snatch the lid and toss it back on top. Jackson nudges it out of the way and hooks his finger on the box, tugging it towards him. “Jax, don’t.” He removes a few papers and flips through them.

His sympathetic brown eyes meet mine. “Are they all in there?”

I clench my jaw. “Most of them.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t find some of the ones from before Violet’s death.”

“No, I mean, why do you have them?”

“Why the hell do you think?” Jackson may not know about my Karma activities, but he knows how much Violet’s death destroyed me. It’s not a stretch I’d be looking for answers.

He sets all the papers beside each other on the bed till the comforter is covered, then sighs. “This case keeps me awake at night too, you know?”

Sometimes I forget I wasn’t the only one hurt by her death. Liam and I had known Violet since we were kids, but she and Jackson formed their own friendship over the years too. I used to wonder if that would turn into more. Had he thought about that too?

He drags a hand through his wavy black hair. “You really should leave this to the professionals.”

“With all lack of respect,” I scoff, “it’s been a year, or rather years, and you ‘professionals’ still don’t have jack shit.”

He wrings his hands together, eyes dropping to the newspapers. “Then what are you planning to do with these?”

I shrug. “Guess I was hoping to find some similarities from the cases.”

“And did you?”

“I might have if I’d actually taken the time to compare them,” I admit. Once a paper is added to this box, it doesn’t make its way back out. They’re too graphic. Too triggering. Too painful. Jackson’s phone rings, and I’m grateful for the intermission from explaining my morbid, masochistic curiosity.