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These guys had blood on their hands, even if it wasn’t totally by choice. And they were investigating a much more horrifying sort of murder.

That was, if I was going to believe that my dad really had been murdered, which as far as I was concerned was still up in the air. There was no doubting that the three Vigil guys believed it whole-heartedly, though.

There hadn’t been much talk at all since my initial welcome. Slade rustled the papers he was searching through—he’d told me he was checking the Vigil’s notes on their earlier encounter with the gang that ran the bar where we’d found Dad’s trinket box, seeing if there were any clues in those prior interactions.

Dexter was tapping away at the computer on the desk against the wall, his gaze intent beneath the fall of his messy curls, his mouth set in a grim line. He was searching news sites for any mention of the death at the warehouse. From his expression, he hadn’t come across any yet.

Logan sat in a nearby chair with a laptop open, running a hand over the short tufts of his hair as he scowled at the screen. He’d mentioned that he was trying to connect the name Kenneth, which the other two guys had gotten during their interrogation at the warehouse, to shipping activities that might be happening at the building. He clearly wasn’t having any luck either.

Before he’d gotten started on his current search, Logan had taken out the file folders of my dad’s notes so that I could contribute by digging through those. If I found any mention of a Kenneth or warehouses or the street the warehouse was on, we’d take a closer look. But my stepbrother had admitted that the Vigil had already looked through them with the same purpose yesterday.

“Maybe you’ll notice something we didn’t, since you knew him better,” he’d suggested.

I’d have been gratified that he was finally acknowledging that I could pitch in if the offer hadn’t felt like busy work. I was skimming through the papers, but nothing had jumped out at me. A lot of them were just mundane notes—reminders to himself to pick up things for the house, appointment or meeting times that were part of his usual schedule. And looking at them sent regular twinges of grief through me like I hadn’t felt in years.

In some ways, my memories of Dad had faded over the past twelve years. I guessed that was normal when you couldn’t make any new memories with the person. But seeing his familiar handwriting with familiar phrasing and references to our lives together brought him back into sharper focus.

What would he have been doing now if he hadn’t died? How would all of our lives have been different?

I set aside the last page in the pile and rubbed my eyes. What else could I do that would be remotely useful?

My gaze landed on Dexter’s phone sitting on the desk next to his arm, and an idea sparked. “Dexter, you took a bunch of photos of the warehouse like you usually do when we investigate, right?”

His attention flicked to me and then back to the screen. “Of course. Not sure there’s anything useful in there. The place was pretty empty.”

That was true, but I had to dosomething. “Could I look through them and see if there’s anything we might have missed? We did get kind of… distracted.”

Slade guffawed at my phrasing and tapped his knee against my leg. “You put it so politely. I would have said all hell broke loose.”

I returned the nudge with my elbow to his arm. “Same difference.”

Dexter had already picked up his phone to unlock it. “Always good to get fresh eyes on the evidence,” he said, passing it over. “Let us know if you notice anything at all that could be of interest.”

“Thanks, I will.”

He’d already opened up the first of the photos—a shot of the front of the building from across the street. The sight of its dreary brick face sent a shiver down my spine. I hoped we never had to go back there in person.

I zoomed in, scanning the worn bricks, the windows, and the door for any detail that might be significant. When I found nothing, I swiped to the next photo and repeated the process.

Slade pushed his papers away with a grimace. “I don’t see anything here that would connect the gang to the warehouse or to Maddie’s dad.”

“That isn’t surprising,” Dexter said without looking up from the computer. “The guy we interrogated didn’t act like he had any clue about the bar or the people who operate out of there. I think his reaction was genuine.”

“You can usually tell.” Slade sighed and popped one of his ever-present cinnamon candies into his mouth. “But it has to all be connected somehow, right? Both the warehouse and the box the gang stole are connected to Evan Silver. Why would the gang have wanted his trinket box if they weren’t mixed up in whatever happened that made someone want to murder him?” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Somehow I don’t get the impression he was the type to go making criminal enemies all over the place.”

“No,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “I’m surprised he madeany.”

Logan had raised his head to follow the conversation. “There could be a higher power that Maddie’s dad pissed off, who controls the warehouse and also hired the gang to steal the car and grab the box. The idiots at the bar might not even know why they were supposed to get it.”

Dexter hummed to himself. “It’s true that whoever orchestrated Evan Silver’s death must have a lot of power and resources. They covered up the murder very thoroughly.”

“Could we find out who might have hired them by going back to the gang?” I asked, even as my stomach knotted at the thought of confronting the thugs who’d attacked all of us and nearly killed Logan just a few days ago.

Logan shook his head. “The three—four—of us can’t go head-to-head with a whole gang and expect to intimidate them into giving up confidential information like that. They might not know who hired them anyway, if the real power behind the situation is keeping everything on the down low. But I’ve asked an associate who helps us out now and then to keep an eye on their activities in case anything we’d want to look into comes up.”

My own eyebrows rose. “Are there more people in the Vigil that I don’t even know about?”

Slade laughed. “Nah, we’ve just made connections over the past couple of years. People we did favors for who don’t mind returning them here and there.”

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