Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Then, from out of the blue, Jason pushed me away, ended things, didn’t want me around any longer. It hurt more than I could ever put into words, and left a scar across my heart that still occasionally throbbed.
“Jason! Perfect timing.”
As we walked back toward the main part of the park, the mayor called us over. They both clearly needed a week’s worth of sleep and possibly a lobotomy so they could forget all about this fucked-up day.
“Find anything?” the mayor asked. Byron was sitting on a bench with a steaming mug in his hands.
“Nothing case-breaking. Just a necklace with some initials on it,” I said. “Jason’s heading back to the office now, and I’m going to—”
“He’s staying here. To interview whoever he can talk to.”
I arched a brow but bit my tongue. Fuck. Did he really hate me that much? That he couldn’t even sit in a car with me for ten minutes? I already planned on coming right back to the park after I dropped Jason off, but if he really wanted to walk, then fine. He could go off on his merry way.
Things didn’t change—I hadn’t changed. I still ruined every relationship I touched, so why have history repeat itself between Jason and me?
“Right,” I said, able to keep the frustration from creeping into my tone but not into my gut. Why exactly was I frustrated? Because Jason was deciding something for me or because his decision pulled him further away from me?
I’d have to think about that later. For now, I stuck out a hand and held it out for Jason. He looked at it, drew his eyes up to mine, and then returned my handshake.
“Call me if you come up with anything,” I said, holding his hand in mine—such a contrast to the way I’d held him years ago, yet not all that different at all. My palm sparked where our skin touched. “We’re going to figure this out.”
Jason nodded but didn’t answer me. He took his hand back, sliding it into his pocket as he offered a hopeful look at the mayor and her son. With that, he turned and started his walk back to the office, leaving me with a view of the back of his head and about a thousand questions left in his wake.
5
JASON QUILL
My mind swam in a murky swamp of what-ifs and what-the-fucks, most of those thoughts having to do with the case. Only a couple of the what-ifs were reserved for Matthew, who’d come into my world once before like a meteor and apparently wasn’t done with throwing me off my axis.
I leaned back in my office chair, rubbing my eyes with two tight fists. All across my desk were photos from the previous crime scenes, a morbid mosaic of blood and murder. There was no doubt in my mind that today’s murder was different than the last three, but I couldn’t quite understand why. Even the murder of Julius in the Queen’s Throne bar seemed more controlled than today’s attack. And the bar hadn’t been empty the night Julius died. It was the opposite, rowdy people crammed in and everyone watching a drag show while someone took their last dying breaths behind the stage. So why was the Pegasus killer able to keep their calm and paint clean wings at a crowded bar but was unable to do the same in a seemingly more private space? No one was around the pumpkin-carving stage until the mayor went over to set up, and with the music blasting, the killer didn’t have to worry about a struggle being heard.
And yet it was the messiest and most rushed crime scene we’d seen yet. Even the cause of death was different. The other victims had their throats cut, but Lionel wasn’t even recognizable with the beating his face took.
I could only draw one solid conclusion from all this: whoever the Pegasus was, they had to have the strength of the Hulk. This wasn’t someone with no upper-body strength. This required someone with enough strength to not only subdue a full-grown man but also turn his face into a bloody pulp.
I turned my chair to face the computer. A gentle breeze drifted in through the cracked window. Outside, the sun was beginning to fall behind the tallest crest of the White Mountains, the sky coated in a dark orange and deep purple. A few clicks and a couple of keystrokes later and I was looking at the (short) list of Pegasus suspects that had been compiled so far. I didn’t want to strike anyone off just yet.
I focused on Colton, the guy who’d recently moved into the Blades and already had an incriminating record the size of the Grand Canyon. I pulled up his file, my screen filling with a row of mug shots showing an evolution of facial tattoos on Colton’s acne-scarred face. He stood at a whopping six foot six and clearly spent most of his time in prison at the gym, his biceps corded with muscle that climbed up like thick vines under the light brown prison shirt.