Page 94 of Signed, I'm Yours!
“I’m sure they’re not going anywhere any time soon.”
The FBI has known their location for a year. I doubt one more night will change anything. Although, that begs the question again. What kind of trouble have they gotten themselves into?
Jack takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, then pulls me out of the elevator and the restaurant, and we immediately hail a cab.
Turns out the crime scene is only a few blocks away, in the same neighborhood. There’s already police tape when we arrive at an abandoned Brownstone, and Bob is standing by the entrance, taking deep breaths into a paper bag.
I climb the stairs with Jack, and he makes it inside but pauses.
“Are…are you coming?” he asks.
“I…I think I’m good, thanks.” That one dead body was more than enough.
“I was talking to Bob.” Jack looks behind me at his partner.
“Oh,” I reply.
Jack reaches for my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“I’d never put you through that again, sweetheart.”
I smile at him as the warmth of his kiss crawls up my arm and down my chest, finding solace in my dark hollow heart.
How does a horrible person like me get so lucky to find a person like Jack? And when do I wake up from this?
“What about me?” Bob offers Jack his hand, pushing mine away, and sniffs dramatically.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing, and Jack chuckles, dragging his partner back inside.
“Come on, princess. Be the CREEP I know you are,” he says.
And just like that, the hint of femininity in Bob’s face and stance disappears, leaving just a cowardly agent on display.
Not that I can blame him. Those crime scenes are horrific. I don’t know how anyone has the stomach for it. Except, of course, for Jack.
I wait for them at the top of the stairs, but after a few minutes, I get bored, so I go down to the sidewalk, where a couple of police officers are chatting.
“Do you think they’ll find this guy?” asks one of them.
“Doubt it. He’s been killing people for months now, and they haven’t even found a shred of evidence. They can’t even find who owns the buildings his victims die in,” answers his colleague.
“That’s weird. You’d think getting a house deed wouldn’t be so hard.”
“You’d think, but every time they open them up, they find shell company after shell company. I was in charge of finding the owner of a warehouse a couple of months ago. I kept going around in circles. It’s like the paperwork tripled itself when I wasn’t looking. I felt like I was going crazy.”
I stare at the officer talking and can barely breathe. Did he…did he just say paperwork? Mountains of it?
“Hey, you okay?”
I jump, clutching my heart, before I turn to find Jack behind me.
I nod.
“I…I think I just solved your case,” I tell him.
CHAPTER 20
JACK
