Page 6 of The Italian Reckoning
He’s not getting it.
It’s right there in front of him and he’s just not seeing it. Her perfect makeup imprint on the Saran Wrap is the biggest giveaway because The Painter’s key method of killing was to paralyze his victims in order to get the perfect transfer of makeup onto the plastic. He wanted their final moments immortalized next to their bodies.
“Sir, can we at least look into this? Everything I’ve said fits and if you could just let me?—”
“Sarah. As your captain, I can’t let you go down this path, but if you need further proof that this is all in your head from a bad night…” He slides across a folder and taps it with his fingers. “There were no muscle relaxants found in her system. Doesn’t The Painter immobilize his victims?”
“Well, yes, but…” The paper is cool against my fingertips, but not as chilling as the truth laid out in black and white. No evidence of sedatives or muscle relaxants. It’s not his MO. “I…” Words fail me, and my chest tightens while I place the folder back on the desk.
“Do you need to take a couple of days?” Brant’s head tilts as he regards me.
“No, I-I’m fine. I just…” The similarities were chilling, but is this really all in my head? Did I just see one connection and run with it without stopping to think? “I’m sorry.”
“No apology needed. Take the morning, at least. And Sarah?”
I pause halfway to the door, my mind racing with disbelief. “Hmm?”
“Get some sleep.”
I’m numb all the way to the bathroom, caught on the single line of text stating that my victim’s blood was clear of the trademark drugs used by The Painter. Out of all the places I expected to be reminded of that asshole, it wasn’t here.
I thought I’d left all that behind in Montana with my failure.
Lightly kicking in each door, I make sure the bathroom is empty, then turn one of the taps on full until the water is ice cold. I gather handfuls in my palms and splash it against my face to shock my system out of an anxious downward spiral.
I’ve been turned up to a hundred ever since I saw the Saran Wrap, utterly convinced that asshole had somehow made it to New York. But Brant is right. It’s not him. There are similarities, sure, but they could be found in countless cases that have nothing to do with Montana’s serial killer.
“Fuck.” Staring at myself in the mirror, I track several droplets as they roll down my cheek and drip off my chin, soaking into my shirt. “Get it together, Sarah.”
Surviving in a city run by criminals isn’t easy for someone who let one of the most dangerous men in the country escape.
He’s been quiet for five years, and deep down, I know he will never surface again. But in just one night, I feel like I’m right back where I was five years ago, bearing the crushing weight of remembering just a single detail of that fucker’s face.
But I’ve buried it so deep I can’t even reach it, and because of that, he escaped justice, and the families of his victims never saw closure.
I remain in the bathroom for ten minutes, repeating breathing exercises taught to me by a therapist who spent six weeks trying to uncover my buried memories. She failed, but her breathing exercises were amazing.
Brant’s right. I need some sleep and to adjust my perspective. I’m in New York. My ghosts are back in Montana.
Drying my hands with a coarse paper towel, I leave the bathroom and run into the patrolman from last night.
“Were you waiting for me?” I ask, narrowly avoiding clipping him with my elbow.
“Was about to send someone in to see if you were okay.” He snorts as he hands me a sheet of paper.
“What’s this?”
“Our victim. Missing woman by the name of Belle Marino. She was reported missing five days ago by her uncle. And you’re not gonna like this.”
We stop outside my office, and the look on his face makes my heart sink. I already know the answer but I ask anyway. “Why am I not going to like this?”
“Her Uncle? He’s Gio Marino. And he’s balls deep in the Italian Mafia.”
3
ROCKY
“Listen, I need those parts by end of day. If this shit falls off, I’m a walking ticket for the cops.” Balancing my phone between my shoulder and my ear, I crouch down and lean over my knee to reach under the chassis of my motorcycle and follow the problem cable right to the source.
