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My eyes latch to his and it’s all I can do to stop my mouth from falling open.
No wonder his voice was so familiar.
He doesn’t have to remove the hood from his head.
I know exactly who he is.
25
Special Agent Jack Stone
As I steer my truck toward Boulder, I can’t stop thinking about the case.
Why do I get the feeling the answer is right in front of me?
Malcolm and Patty have been whirling through my mind nonstop for the last twenty-four hours, and I’ve spent about that much time digging up as much as I can on them. No records to speak of, none as of yet at least.
Jet grunts as he switches the radio station. It’s his fault we’re out tonight. There’s a late-night recovery meeting out in Teal and he’s been invited. Most likely because no one closer to home will invite him back.
I’ll give it to Jet. It takes a lot of work to get booted from a recovery meeting. At least he’s good at something.
On our way out, I drove past Fallon’s place. No lights on and no truck in the driveway. Makes me wonder who she’s with and what she’s doing. I suppose her mother and sister are options, but I’ll admit, my mind drifted far past any relation of hers.
Fallon is beautiful. And she’s smart as hell. She makes a good team member, too. I may not admit it to her, but I’m glad to have her.
The roads snake through the rugged scenery and my mind treks back to the case. Seven bodies. All of them branded.
Murdered and dumped.
Not buried.
I shake my head. It’s clear they all belonged to Paradise at one point and found hell in exchange for heaven. That sums up so much of this rotten planet.
The evergreens line either side of the road, blackened by their own shadows, the towering peaks in the distance stretch as far as the eye can see. And soon enough, the landscape shifts as we get closer to Boulder and the wilderness gives way to the manicured outline of the city. But nothing seems to be able to distract me from what evil might be lurking in Paradise. The irony isn’t lost on me. But what is lost on me is how so many people can fall victim to such blatant brainwashing.
Unburied bodies…
I shake my head.
It’s as if the killer is baiting us.
Four bodies before we were allowed to even look at the case.
Whoever dragged Emily Gannon’s pretty little head across state lines was either a fool or knew exactly what they were doing.
But regardless, each of those bodies points like an arrow straight at Malcolm and Patty.
Something Scarlett said the other night comes back to me and my heart lurches in my chest. I take the next exit and Jet sits up as if waking from a stupor.
“Teal is past Boulder,” Jet says, sounding increasingly annoyed with me. He was annoyed when I made him shower. Annoyed when I shoved a burger at him. Annoyed when I told him to stop jonesing for liquor. Annoyance is the state of our affairs as of late. Heck, it has been for the last fifteen years at least. “You took the wrong turn, dude.”
“We’re going to take a little side trip,” I say, and soon enough I pull into the lot of the Boulder Beauties Gentlemen’s Club.
Jet lets out a catcall that nearly takes out my eardrum.
“Now we’re talking.” He slaps his thigh as he laughs with approval. “Dude, is it my birthday?”
“No. And stop saying dude. You know I hate that.”
