Page 45 of Hard Game

Marvin nods and waves to one of the cars. “Take the blue one. Leave it in the woods and go home; you know the drill.” He tosses him some keys and smacks the back of the van, giving it the sign to go.

I step back and return to my truck, hyper-aware that I can’t miss this night trip to the woods.

I’ve always loved a bit of hunting.

23

LAUREN

“She knew something, didn’t she?” Elijah strokes his chin and stares past me into the van that’s about to take the corpse of Zia Montague away.

My cheeks are numb from the cold, but I can’t move. Frustration and anger well within me, and I nod briskly when Elijah nudges me.

“Didn’t she?”

“Yes,” I grit out as my head begins to throb. It’s barely eleven in the morning, and I’ve already got a headache. “So we need to find out who she was and what she knew.”

Elijah frowns and sighs heavily. I know this case is weighing him down; it’s like Groundhog Day for both of us. The last case wasn’t solved, and the rate at which these bastards are killing people makes me wonder if we’re going to face the same fate. “She wasn’t a victim.”

I have to agree with him, or more so, the facts we’re presented with. Zia wasn’t malnourished or beaten—according to forensics. (Not Ellie this time, although I wish it were; she was present at the other scenes and would’ve known instantly if we were looking at the same killer/killers). Zia wasn’t injured other than her eyes and tongue, of course, which the killer/killers did while she was alive, no doubt. She had a job, working for the government of all places, and she had no large debts or a criminal record. According to her social media, she had a loving family and many friends.

Zia was a model citizen.

Of course, the social media Zia could all be utter bullshit, as people can be anyone they want to be online. But as I scroll through Elijah’s phone—mine is still charging—I see plenty of photos of Zia and her friends, and she looks happy and carefree in all of them. I stop when I recognize a face, pausing to suck in a breath.

“What?” Elijah peers down at the image on his phone and then back at me, perplexed. “What, Diess?”

I stare at the image and then glance up at Elijah, twisting the image to show him fully. “Does she look familiar to you?” I know who it is, but I need Elijah to confirm it.

He doesn’t waste much time, peering at the screen and then clearly relaxing his features as he says, “ Fuck, yes. It’s the woman who was with Moreno at the mall.”

My gut twists at the confirmation, and I wonder if it’s too late to change careers. Now I know my sister’s fate—I suck in a breath and close my eyes at the pain in my heart at the sheer thought of her, willing myself to breathe—is there any reason for me to continue seeking justice? Will I ever get it? Probably not, and is it worth it? Hunting these callous bastards down and throwing them in a jail cell for what? For another hundred copycats to crawl out of the shitholes they come from and replace them. I’ll be fighting a losing battle.

But you’re still fighting.

I vowed to fight for the girls and women who lost their voices, their lives, their dignity, and their self-respect. My sister had her whole life ahead of her, and it was snatched away, and for what? Some sick, perverted desires of men who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. No. For Sara. I’ll keep fighting for her justice. “What’s her name?” I ask Elijah, who’s now grabbed the phone from my hands.

“Fuck,” Elijah mutters, his eyes round as he stares at me. “Tassa Charlize.”

I gasp as the realization hits me. “The woman who reported her missing! She must be her friend…”

And Maddox’s friend.

Elijah shakes his head with a grim smile as he shows me Tassa’s profile photo—the only one that’s public. It’s of her and Zia, and they’re kissing, their hands cupping one another’s faces as they did. Frozen in time, forever in the honeymoon period, I think, my heart sinking even lower than I thought possible.

“She was her girlfriend,” I whisper, my eyes stinging as the wind whips around us. “Fucking hell, what are the chances that Tassa’s girlfriend was killed —”

“Tongue removed for talking, eyes removed for seeing,” Elijah interjects, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

My mind is moving too fast to keep up, but words tumble from my mouth as I try to piece it all together.

Maddox and Tassa at the mall.

Maddox knew about Taron’s dodgy deals and all about the traffickers. His word that he wasn’t a trafficker—and now this. Tassa, the woman I saw him with, her girlfriend is dead. Killed by the Lockwood Ring. “So Maddox and Tassa were watching the ring?” I say, looking at Elijah for confirmation. “Why?”

Elijah stares up at the sky and exhales before answering me. “Why are you a detective?”

I frown, wondering why he’s asking me that. Irritation grates on my nerves as I glare at him, narrowing my eyes. “You know why, Elijah.” My voice sounds like it’s laced with razors—sharp and terrifying. “What sort of stupid question is that?”

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