Page 93 of Six of Hearts
My phone buzzed. Nathan.
I put it on speaker. "Nathan, you're on with me and Gabriel. What have you got?"
"Okay, so I've been running down the digital trail like you asked." Nathan's voice crackled through. "The photos themselves were printed at a FedEx Office in Fort Worth, paid for with cash. But here's the thing—whoever printed them had to upload the files from somewhere."
"And?" Gabriel leaned forward.
"And I found the upload. It came from a library computer in Clearwater, Florida. Three weeks before the photos were delivered."
Florida. Where Ronan had lived. Where Eva had died.
"Can you trace who used that computer?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Library computers don't require login, but they do have security cameras. I've got a buddy who works there. He pulled the footage for me." Nathan paused. "I'm sending you a screenshot now."
My phone chimed. I opened the image, and Gabriel moved to look over my shoulder.
The photo showed a man in his fifties, with grey hair and glasses, wearing a polo shirt. He looked ordinary. Forgettable.
Except I'd seen his face before.
"Fuck," Gabriel breathed. "That's—"
"Detective Marcus Holloway," I finished. "He was the lead investigator on Eva's case."
The pieces clicked into place with the satisfying precision of a closing argument. Detective Holloway had investigated Eva's death. He'd had access to all the crime scene photos. And according to the reports Ronan had shown Aria, Holloway had been convinced it was murder, not suicide—convinced that Ronan was guilty.
"He never let it go," I said, thinking out loud. "Even after Ronan was cleared, even after witness protection relocated him. Holloway still believed he was guilty."
"So he tracked him down," Gabriel added. "Found out about Aria. And decided to 'save' her by showing her what he thought was the truth."
"It's harassment at minimum," I said, my legal mind already building the case. "Possibly stalking, depending on how longhe's been watching. Definitely interfering with a federal witness protection case."
Nathan's voice came through the phone. "There's more. I dug into Holloway's background. He was forced into early retirement six months ago. Excessive force complaints, evidence mishandling. He's been spiralling."
A detective with a grudge, a tarnished career, and nothing left to lose. That was a dangerous combination.
"Where is he now?" Gabriel asked.
"That's the thing," Nathan said. "I tracked his credit cards. He's here. In Dallas. Has been for the past three weeks."
The same timeframe as when the photos were delivered.
Gabriel and I looked at each other. We were thinking the same thing.
"Send me everything you have," I told Nathan. "Every transaction, every location ping, all of it."
"Already done. Check your email."
I hung up and immediately started reviewing Nathan's files on my phone. Gabriel was doing the same on his.
"He's staying at a motel off I-35," Gabriel said. "Shitty part of town."
"Last credit card transaction was yesterday. Gas station near Ronan's neighbourhood." I looked up. "He's still watching."
"Then we end this tonight."
I should have argued for a more measured approach. Should have insisted on building an airtight case first, going through proper channels, ensuring every step was legally sound.
