Page 53 of The Drowned Woman
“Why?” Jack snapped. “Because he’s your friend? Because he’s stuck by you when you stopped taking all those high-paying dangerous assignments and the money stopped flowing in? Don’t you get it? He’s not your friend, you’re his money-maker and that’s all he cares about.”
“But I said no to those jobs before I got sick,” Risa protested.
“So maybe he’s punishing you for it. Or is using your illness to turn you into a spectacle he can cash in on. I don’t trust him.” It was clear this was an argument that Jack had been building to for a long time. “I don’t think he’s good for you. There. I said it.”
“You think—” Her eyes went wide. “No. Why would Dom want to hurt me? How does that benefit him at all?”
“It’s that damn book. If you’re sick that’s one more publicity angle to help him sell it.”
Risa shook her head. “But it’s because I’ve been sick that I haven’t been able to finish the book. You can’t have it both ways.”
“Hang on,” Leah interjected, feeling like a referee. “Let’s slow down and focus on Risa and what’s happening now. The symptoms you have today fit a few toxins—”
“Toxins?” Jack’s voice rose to near shouting. “You mean poison—”
“Wait, wait.” Leah let her voice rise to match his but then lowered it. She took a deep breath and he followed. “Let’s think this through. If Dom—or anyone—did this, then they either brought the toxin with them or they found it here. Any pesticides, bug sprays, plant sprays in the house?”
“No,” Risa said. “I’m not good with plants.”
“There’s that mold killer stuff for the bathroom,” Jack said. “Would that—no, different chemicals.” As he calmed down, his expression cleared. “You’re thinking organophosphates or carbamates, aren’t you?” Leah remembered he was an environmental chemist. “No, nothing like that in the apartment. Besides, it would need to be a commercial product, like what professional landscapers use.”
“Landscaper?” Risa sat up straight. “Like the man killed in Indiana?”
“The man missing in Indiana,” Leah corrected, Luka’s voice in her head. She wondered if, with him off the case, someone would still be following up on the search. She hoped so. “Another possibility is nicotine. Do either of you smoke?”
“No,” Risa said. Then she let out a long exhalation, her shoulders sagging. “But Dom vapes.”
“Wait.” Jack crossed into the kitchen, returning with a small trash can. “I saw something—” He rummaged through the garbage, then held up a tiny cartridge. “I think this is his.”
Too bad Jack had just put his own prints all over it, Leah thought, knowing Luka would be frustrated at that. “Risa, how about if we go to the ER and get you tested?”
“Wouldn’t a toxin have showed up in my other tests?”
“Nicotine has a short half-life. It would have already been out of your system by the time your doctors ordered any toxicology tests. Plus, they would have had to ask the lab to look for nicotine specifically.”
“C’mon, Risa. One more test, you can do it,” Jack urged, taking her arm as she tried to push out of the chair. “I’ll help you get dressed.”
Risa’s phone chimed. They all pivoted to where it sat on the table. “Unknown number,” Risa read from the screen, her voice barely above a whisper. Leah handed her the phone and they all gathered around it as Risa began the screen recording app Ian had installed for her. Even with it, Leah was glad that the police were watching everything that came through Risa’s phone and computer.
Then Risa tapped the message.
It was a video. Although the timestamp showed that it was being livestreamed, the location was dark; eerie shades of grey and white appeared to be reflections on rushing water. Then the image shifted, and a white blur shaped like a body slowly came into focus. It was a man, naked, gagged and bound, lying on his stomach, hogtied, his limbs contorted behind him.
At first Leah thought he was dead. But then water surged around him, the small space he was confined in filling fast. He kicked against his bonds, struggling to lift his torso higher out of the water. Already, in the few seconds the video had gone live, water seeped several inches up his thighs. He thrashed, his head colliding with some unseen obstacle, forcing him to remain bent in an unnatural position, his face hidden from the camera.
At the corner of the screen was a countdown clock. It had twenty-nine minutes and fourteen seconds remaining. Thirteen, twelve…
Then another chime as a text appeared.
Ready for the endgame? Be the hero I know you were in the beginning. Save him. Your devoted, Chaos.
Thirty-Two
Before Krichek could begin to detail his efforts to locate Dominic Massimo, Luka’s phone buzzed, as did Krichek’s and McKinley’s. Luka peered at his phone. A group text from Sanchez, the cyber tech.
Livestream intercepted. New victim. Still alive.
Both he and Krichek were halfway out the door before he realized Ahearn was shouting his name. Luka gestured for Krichek to go and then turned around.
