Page 81 of Jace 4Ever
I cringed and shook my head, bracing for a disaster beyond the door: tossed drawers, overturned bed, smashed decorations. The door swung open and—
Nothing.
The whole room looked absolutely normal. That raised my hackles as much as a mess did. Stepping inside, Nelson followed behind with a hand on my lower back.
“Anything weird?”
I pointed. “That box.”
There was a large box on the top of the dresser that I hadn’t ever seen before. It had my name scrawled on it and a creep of fear washed over me.
There was no tape on the top flaps. They were merely folded and laid on top of the others.
Before I could reach out and flip them open, Nelson grabbed my hand. “No. Don’t touch it. Grab a pen or something to flip it open.”
Jerrod held out a ruler that he had pulled from who knew where for me to take. I did and slipped it under the lip of the top flaps, and flicked one, then the other. Shifting around, I did the same to the second set of flaps.
I stepped up and looked into the box.
Marilyn.
“Garbage can!” Nelson screamed. He and Jerrod barely got it to me before I threw up everything in my stomach.
“What the fuck?” Jerrod asked and stepped closer to the box. “Is that a fucking head?”
My hands were lacedin my hair at the back of my head, the nausea still floating through my stomach. The apartment, and apartment building, swarmed with cops.
Nelson and Jerrod flanked me on the couch. My brother was crashing hard from the high. Nelson was mostly there to protect me and ground me from all the activity and questions.
And there were a lot of questions.
It happened when someone found a decapitated head of a missing woman in your bedroom.
Another man sat down on the weak coffee table in front of me. Suit number five or six since Nelson had called the cops two hours before.
“Hi.” The man pulled out a notebook. “I’m Detective Masin Griffith. I’m the principal on this case. Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”
“Yeah, I kinda do,” I mumbled. “I’ve been questioned four times already.”
“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “They shouldn’t have done that. I’ll get their notes and we can skip over those. Hang tight?”
“Detective,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Go ahead. Don’t waste time trying to find them. I’m grumpy and tired and just want everything out of here.”
He relaxed back down to the table. “How did you know Marilyn?”
“We…worked together.”
“Where?”
“At a film company in Queens.”
“What kind of films?”
“If you have to ask, you already know.” I held up a hand to stop his tirade. “I’m sorry. I’m hungry and grumpy and I would just like to go to sleep. It was an adult film company. Denis DeMarco Films.”
“Ohhhh.” The detective drew out the syllable. “That guy.”
“Yeah.”
