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Chapter twenty-eight
Promises Broken and Promises Made
Leo
Threeweekslater
I take a sip of coffee and spread the Harbor Chronicle out on my desk. The front-page headline is all I care about:
June Harbor Slayer pleads guilty, reign of terror over
There’s a photo of Fox in a suit standing next to his lawyer in the courtroom. He looks like shit and serves him right for turning himself in rather than killing the dumb bitch standing behind him.1
I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed. Despite our history, I think we could have made good partners. Oh well, on to the next.
Speaking of, I’ve been getting restless. It’s been months since I killed the stripper, and the itch to spill blood is resurfacing. I have some ideas now that Fox is no longer a viable cover, but that’s okay, I’ve always prepared for this possibility.
See, that’s the difference between me and him. I’m prepared for anything, and I don’t let anything—or anyone—get in my way. Instead, he fell over himself for some pussy and landed himself life without parole.
I swirl the room-temperature coffee in my mug ambivalently. Our cat-and-mouse game was fun though. Now, I have to deal with Harlow, who has become increasingly unhinged since he went away. It’s pathetic really.
Every week she’s come into the station, shouting and hollering like she did after the stripper. She cries about frame jobs and insists I’m the real killer. It’s quite amusing actually. Everyone thinks she’s gone insane, and maybe she has, but she’s right about that part.The perfect crime,I think proudly.
I finish reading the article and toss the paper in the trash.It was fun while it lasted.
A knock comes at my office door and Quincy pokes his head in. “She’s back.”
“Okay, I’m coming,” I sigh, finishing my coffee and heading out.
“You gotta be all kinds of wacky to fall in love with the serial killer who murdered your best friend.” Quincy chuckles.
“Wacky, yeah. That’s what she is.” I fake a laugh back.
“We threw her in interrogation, figured you could have ascare her straightconversation and finally put an end to this nonsense.” He fills me in as we walk.
God, I should have killed her when I had the chance.
We stop outside of the interrogation room. Poetically, it’s the same one I first met her in…right after I stabbed her friend to death.Ah, good times.
“I might go dark, you’ll cover me?” I ask.
“’Course.” He nods, and I step into the room while he waits outside.
“Hello, Harlow.” She looks like shit. Like she hasn’t slept in days and lost her hairbrush. She has a manic look in her eyes when I greet her.
“You know what you did,” she drawls, her voice hoarse—probably from all the yelling she’s been doing in our lobby.
I turn off the camera in the corner and make sure the recorder on the table is off as well.
“You gotta stop this, it’s just embarrassing at this point.” I sit down across from her and recline, legs crossed.
“Just admit what you did.” Her voice wobbles, and I swear to god if she starts crying, I really might kill her.
“You think these outbursts are gonna get you what you want? You really think that if you scream and yell enough, I’ll throw my life away and go to prison for a crime that someone else has already taken the fall for?” I snort.
“He only did it because you were gonna kill me if he didn’t.”
“Starting to wish I had.” I roll my eyes.
