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"No, unless a porcelain picture frame had a soul," he chuckled. "What's up?"
"A package was delivered to the restaurant with instructions for me to open it privately. I thought it might be a gift for the couple, but…it was definitely for me. There's a fucking severed pig head inside with a card and a note from the whack job that did the murder."
"What?" I had his attention now. "How do you know it's the same guy?"
"They mentioned the surf's up comment, and the note shoved in the Hog's eye had that same date on it. That wasn't information released to the public, right?"
"No," he sighed. "Let me get some cars over there."
"Do me a favor," I said in a lowered voice. "Don't come, cop cars blazing. Don't roll up fifty deep. We got a lot of press outside, we got kids at this party, and they've been through enough already. I'd like to be discreet about this. There's an exit door to this room. I'll talk with the manager and have him unlock it and prop it open. If you're facing the front door, it'll be to the right. Use that."
"You got it," he replied. "Don't go anywhere."
I looked up at the box. "And what? Leave my date trapped in a metal box? He might spoil."
Quietly, I poked my head out of the room and motioned to a server. "Could you have Evan, your manager, come in this room, please. Tell him Ryder needs to speak to him. Be discreet and don't say it around any of the guests."
"Of course," he said, his eyes shifting down to the blood from the note on my fingers. "Right away."
As he ran off, I grabbed one of the folded black cloth napkins from the table and wiped my hands off, shutting the door behind me. After a year of quiet, I was back to being suspicious about everything. I glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room, walking over and sitting down. My stomach flopped, and my palms began to sweat.
What could the head in a box really mean? Was it symbolic of something, or just a treat of some kind?
Did the killer know my parents were butchers?
Were my parents alright?
I immediately grabbed my phone and texted my brother.
Just checking in on you guys. Everybody doing okay?
It took him a minute to text back, probably surprised since I didn't text often. We're all good. Actually, we closed the factory tonight, and all came over to Mom and Dad's for dinner. Gang’s all here. It's good to hear from you. We miss you.
I took a deep breath and texted him back quickly before putting my phone back in my pocket. I didn't know what this sicko wanted from us. I didn't understand why they'd come after me. I never did anything but maybe give them a snide reply every once in a while. Whoever it was, though, they weren't playing games. One murder, one attempted kidnapping, and now a butchered pig in a box. I guess I got off easy compared to Daniel so far. But another dead body wasn't really what we hoped for to catch the bastard.
I was going to have to be careful. It was starting again, and I wasn't about to be the innocent victim.
Chapter One
Ryder
6 Months Later
I leaned back in my office chair with my phone propped on my shoulder. The quiet of the afternoon office creeped me out. I used to love it. No one bothered me, asking me for things I had already finished. Now though, with him back in the picture, I was always on edge.
"Ryder," Carter said, coming on the line. "Sorry for the hold. It's a fucking circus in here today."
"That's alright. I know the feeling," I said, staring at the picture of the guys and me from college in a frame on my desk.”I was returning your call."
"Yeah, yes," he said, the sound of papers shuffled in my ear. "So, we worked with your family as discreetly as possible, didn't mention your name. It took a while, the factory was big, and they had to go back through their records. We cross ran the fingerprints, looked over all the deliveries, and it doesn't look like there's anything out of the ordinary. None of the carcasses were unaccounted for. Unless something was missing in the logs, nothing came in extra from any of the trucks."
"My father is pristine with accounting and taught it to all of us," I said. "And there's no way they got the head earlier and maybe froze it?"
"The reports from the lab showed it had been kept cold, but there was no deterioration of the fatty tissue — that occurs when freezing. So whoever did this got the head, prepared it, took it from the cooler, and put it right in the box."
I tapped my pen on the table. I didn't want it to have come from my parent's factory. But, since it hadn't, it left a whole lot of questions. "What about the kid that delivered it in the video footage?"
"The kid was getting out of school and got a call. He was doing some delivering for a service in San Diego. He thought it was for them. There were instructions that it would be left at his house when he got there and for him to deliver it at precisely seven at that restaurant. There were no cameras at the kid's house. We checked with the delivery service, and the order didn't come through them. The number was from a burner phone.”
