Page 31 of The Italian Reckoning
No sooner have I scoured through three sections of tape when the contents tip out onto my desk from being dislodged, likely during delivery.
All warmth leaves me in a single heartbeat as another makeup palette exactly the same as the one I already received lands on my desk with a thunk.
No.
This can’t be real. This can’t be fucking real.
I stare at it until my eyes blur with tears. Tension tightens around my chest, making my next few breaths ragged, and theicy cold fingers of dread caress the back of my neck, sending countless shivers down my spine.
They have to believe me now. They have to.
“Do you think I’m telling the truth now?” The makeup palette lands on Brant’s desk with a clatter, jolting him out of whatever he was intently typing up on the computer. “Look at this! This is a threat. Hell, it’s probably some kind of joke. The killer is taunting us, Brant. They’re making fun of me because they know you’re not letting me do this properly!”
Brant eyes the palette, then glances up at me with a frown. “Sarah, what on earth are you talking about?”
“This!” I furiously tap his desk. “I got sent one at home with Saran Wrap a few weeks ago, then a few days ago, someone tried to kill me, and now I get another one. Don’t you see?”
His blank expression doesn’t change.
“It’s The Painter! Or someone incredibly intimate with his methods. It’s the exact same makeup brand he used in Montana and now it’s here. After what happened to Belle, don’t you see?”
“Sarah, you’re not thinking logically.”
“Don’t give me that crap. You know I know this case better than anyone. I know exactly what to look out for.”
“In that case, did The Painter ever send gifts like these before?”
I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. “No.”
“So why now?”
“Because he’s bored. We’re taking too long to start the chase so he’s taunting me.”
“Or someone you know is gifting you a very popular makeup brand.” Brant sniffs deeply and picks up the palette, examining it, then his eyes lock on mine. “What do you mean someone tried tokillyou?”
“I…” Shit. That just slipped out. “A few days ago, someone tried to shoot me.”
“This is New York. Are you sure they were aiming for you?”
“Yes, I’m sure!”
“Then why am I only hearing about it now?”
Again, the words stick in my throat as my reasoning suddenly doesn’t feel justifiable when facing down my captain. My lips part but my mind is running circles around The Painter, and being shot at feels like such a small incident in comparison. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Someone trying to kill one of my detectives absolutely does matter.”
“I’m not even sure it’s linked to this case, I just think— Look. This means something.” I tap his desk again. “We either have that asshole running around New York or we have a copycat, and the bodies will start piling up pretty fast if we don’t give him the attention he craves.”
“Sarah, I’m not putting everyone on high alert for the ghost of a serial killer because someone sent you makeup in the mail.”
I ache to reach across the desk and wrap my hands around Brant’s neck, then shake him until he starts listening to what I’m trying to tell him. “This is athreat.”
“If it will make you feel better, I’ll have forensics take a look at this, alright? But Sarah?” His tone drops down a notch, softening with the telltale notes of appeasement. “Have you been sleeping? You look a little worn down.”
“Would you ask me that if I were a man?”
Brant’s eyes narrow. “I think you should take some time out.”
