He nods.
I open it slowly.
The blinds in here are cracked just enough to let in a thin line of sunlight.It falls across the bed…
And the man lying in it.
Clifford Haynes is dead.
He’s been slashed across the throat.
Fuck.Just like that attorney, Brick Latham, who we found in Raven’s old bedroom in our parents’ house.The pillow beneath his head is soaked dark, the blood dried to a deep rust color.His eyes are open, glassy.
Falcon stands in the doorway.“Well.That explains why he didn’t answer.”
I step closer and look around.No sign of a struggle.On the nightstand is a lamp, an old wind-up alarm clock, and a full glass of water.
“This was quiet,” I say.“Controlled.”
“Professional?”Falcon asks.
“Could be.Or someone who knew him well enough to get close without a fight.”
We search the rest of the room.Dresser drawers hold folded clothes with a few porn magazines tucked underneath.The closet is half empty.
Falcon checks under the bed.“Nothing but dust.”
The whole place feels staged.
“I wonder if someone from Daniela’s past paid him to leave the notes.”I say.“And then got rid of him.”
Falcon nods.“Which means the person behind the gifts is still out there.”
I don’t reply right away.I stare at Haynes’s dead eyes, and the heat outside suddenly feels colder.
“Yeah,” I finally say, massaging my temples to ease an erupting headache.“It does.”
32
DANIELA
Jordan dropsinto the chair across from me like he’s claiming the whole table.
“I have evidence Hawk broke into my house.”
I blink.“What?”
Gina stops mid-bite.Lavender freezes with her soda halfway to her mouth.
Jordan’s voice is steady.Almost casual.“The truck tailing me yesterday morning?Same make, model, and color as Hawk’s.The vehicle that’s registered in his name.”
Gina raises her eyebrows.“That’s…specific.”
Lav sets her soda down slow.“It could have been anyone.I mean, trucks are a dime a dozen in Texas.”
Jordan shakes his head.“I didn’t get the license plate number.”He leans forward.“But then I saw him.At church.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it.“Church?”