Page 17 of Safe Haven
“Valerie Sheppard.”
Momentarily caught off guard by my own thoughts, I’d forgotten I had an audience, let alone that I had asked her a question.
“How’d you come to be known by Nightshade?” I mean, Loki, I kinda got.
It fit her first name, Lourdes, and if I had to guess, she was a prankster when her life wasn’t imploding around her.
“I know my way around plants.” She doesn’t say anything anymore, and my eyebrow raises.
“I see.” Note to self, never drink tea made by this woman.
“When you say you’re going to work, do you mean the funeral home?” I sigh as I pull on a pair of stockings.
“Nope. I’m on call at the City Morgue. I’m heading to a crime scene.” She frowns and rubs the back of her neck.
“I can’t really follow you then.”
I shake my head as I stand and step into my high heels.
“The place will be crawling with cops.” She curses and shakes her head.
“Nah, I can’t let you out of my sight.” I shrug.
“Your funeral.”
In the end, she decides to follow me at a safe distance and then come closer on foot so her Harley doesn’t draw unwanted attention. She’s wearing an old hoodie over her cut and blending into the crowd of onlookers gathered behind the police tape.
“Morning, gentlemen. What do you have for me?” I lay my case full of supplies down by my feet and look over the body lying on the grass in this little suburban town.
“Haven, you look fresh as a daisy. Walk of shame?” I roll my eyes at Detective Cruz.
“In these heels? Never. Just up early to start my day.” I point at the body with my pen, ready to take notes.
“GSW to the back of his head. This was execution style. No shell casings or witness accounts of gunshots. We’re thinking the body was dumped here.” I nod as I jot down the info.
“Then there’s this,” he hands me a note with a few drops of blood on it inside a sealed evidence bag.
I turn it to the street light to read, and my heart stops in my chest because I know that handwriting.
Danica.
What is done in the dark
Will always come into the light
WE SEE YOU
I clear my throat and hand it back to Cruz.
“ID?” he nods.
“Jensen Walters, forty-five, address is listed in Delaware.”
I sigh and nod.
“Let’s figure out why you were dumped here, Mr. Walters.” I pull out a pair of gloves and get to work.
Chapter Nine
