Page 99 of Lady Killer

He was in an especially foul mood after being stuck dealing with law enforcement all day. Seven girls, including Melody whose body still hadn’t turned up, were dead now, and the scope of the investigation was starting to creep beyond Shady Harbor.

“Why is he here, again?”

I sighed, rubbing my fingers between my eyebrows. “Human perception is limited. Nixon may hear something of relevance that I might miss. And no one else isaround, unless you would rather I call Locke. But as the inquisitor of the family, you might find his methods less than . . . palatable.”

She frowned, and I could see she was fighting the urge to argue with me. “What about a truth for a truth?”

Nixon scoffed.

“I’m afraid that opportunity has passed,” I said, suppressing a smirk. “Tell us about your life before you came to Hollow Oak, petite diablesse.”

“I thought you knew all this,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Straight-A student, moved around Texas a lot with my mom—‍”

“Were you close to her?”

Luz stopped. “What?”

“It’s a simple question. Were you close to your mommy?” Nixon snapped.

Fuck, we were never going to get anywhere with the two of them.

“Your father wasn’t in the picture. It was just you and your mother. Were you close to her?”

“Mami,” Luz said in a soft tone. “She was my mami, she was big on culture, on staying connected to her language, her roots.”

“And your father?”

Luz’s spine went stiff, and I could see her mask fall into place. “What about him?”

There it was.

“I don’t know, demoness, why don’t you tell me? What about him?”

She took a deep breath in through her nose, darting a quick derisive look toward my brother. “He’s dead.”

I arched my brow.

“My mother killed him.”

That’s . . . unexpected.

“Wow! Like mother, like daughter,” Nixon said, sitting up.

Luz rolled her eyes. “You realize how stupid that sounds coming from you, Blackwell?”

“We’re professionals, you bit—‍”

“Nixon.” I refused to let him speak to her that way.

He looked at me incredulously, shaking his head in disappointment.

Turning my attention back to Luz, I considered how to best coax out the information we needed from her. While our relationship had grown, trust would take longer to establish. “Your mother killed your father?” I repeated. Sometimes simplicity was the best approach.

She nodded.

“How old were you when this happened?”

“Eight.”

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