Page 7 of Hard Game

Was she part of the ring?

“Yes,” I say flatly as the hope fades from Elijah’s eyes. “I wish she wasn’t.”

Elijah drags his hands through his hair and exhales heavily, and I can’t help but notice my partner looks exhausted, too. His shirt is creased, and he’s got dark circles beneath his eyes.

It sucks to wear the uniform of the tired.

“Are you sure?”

If anyone else asked me that, I’d have lost my shit. You don’t guess in this job—you either know or don’t.

And I know.

“Yes. They removed her tongue.”

“For talking.” Elijah grimaces as he continues. “Was she alive? When they took it out?”

I nod, lifting the styrofoam cup to my lips. “Yup.”

Elijah sighs and strokes his chin again. “Do we have an ID on the Vic?”

I shake my head and log in to the computer on my desk. A million emails pop up in my inbox, but there’s only one I’m interested in. Forensics.

Nothing.

“Where do we start?” I ask Elijah, who looks like I’ve told him his entire family is dead.

“You’re asking me?” I try to hide my irritation. Elijah is a great detective, but as soon as it comes to something like this, the one case that nearly killed us both, he waits for me to take the lead. I don’t know what it is about this case that unnerves him. Maybe it’s the fact that these bastards don’t have a heart, nor do they stand by morals; even notorious criminals do. Maybe it’s because they evaded us last time, and he’s scared they’ll do it again.

“I know this is personal to you, Lauren,” Elijah says gently, his chair creaking as he leans forward. “But sometimes, the bad guys get away.”

I shake my head. “No, not if the good guys do their job right.”

Elijah knows he won’t win this argument; in my mind, everyone gets caught. Taron used to say it was because I was new and ambitious; I see it as realism.

Fuck these murderous bastards.

“We tried our best last time,” Elijah reminds me. “Look at me, Diess.”

I do, and he nods.

“We did our best.”

“Clearly, our best isn’t good enough then,” I tell him, swiping through the news sites on my browser. The girl is all over the news, and it won’t take long for the media circus to discover that the Lockwood Ring is back.

Elijah is right, though. We did our best, and it wasn’t good enough, and our best is fucking good. So why didn’t we get them? The answer is hidden beneath murky waters I can’t swim through, but I’m determined to get these bastards.

“I worry you’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” Elijah says for the millionth time.

“On us,” I say, winking at him to keep the mood light.

Fucking God knows we need the light.

“Okay, so what do we know? The ring went dark for a few years—why?”

It’s my turn to lean back in my chair, and I pick up a pencil to twirl between my fingers. I always work better when I have something to play with. “Maybe they moved somewhere else?”

“Possibly,” Elijah says, ripping a page from his notebook and scribbling away. “What else?”

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