Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Her phone rang, the sound a shrill siren invading her peace. She grabbed for it with a wet hand, suds covering her knuckles and wrist.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Investigator Lee, this is Captain White. I hate to disturb you tonight, but I know you were waiting for those DNA test results from Clark Johnson. There was nothing yielded.”
She sighed in disappointment, closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Thanks for letting me know. I knew it was a shot in the dark, as he was in the water for a significant amount of time, but I was still hopeful.”
“Yeah, me too. Well, have a good evening.”
“Thank you. You do the same.” She pressed END and set her phone back down, then sat back in the tub, her mind racing.
I’ve followed up on a few other leads, none of which panned out. A confession, or DNA evidence at this point, would be our only hope.
It was so strange how the murders seemed to stop after Clark’s body was discovered—almost as if a light switch had been turned off.
Was the killer still active and just stalking his next kill? Had he moved away? Was he spooked due to increased media attention, and just laying low?
She also found it curious that more than one person had stated in the police witness statements relating to Clark’s case that a man matching a similar physical description as Nikolai had been spotted. Nikolai didn’t exactly look like everyone else. It was hard to mistake him for an average Joe. Yet this and the fact a few half-drunk individuals gave such testimony didn’t mean he was guilty, and it didn’t mean he was innocent, either.
When she interrogated the man over dinner, he was quite adamant that he’d been nowhere near the beach, and the police did have information to support that—but what if he was just able to build a false defense? It happened more times than one would imagine.
Ethan didn’t favor Nikolai. However, Ethan was a known barfly in those parts, especially on a Saturday night. Many people who were interviewed couldn’t vouch for Ethan’s whereabouts at all times during the night of Clark’s disappearance, either, and in the case of several of the other homicide victims he seemed to be MIA, as well. Nikolai did have an alibi, but she knew from her police work that alibis could be just as phony as a two-dollar bill. Something nagged her…
Nikolai came across as truthful. The more she spoke to him, the more credible he seemed. She was rarely wrong about a suspect, and though she found him physically striking, and lest she admit it, enjoyed their time together, that had nothing to do with her findings, and point of view.
The man didn’t come off as a killer. Period. A hothead at times? Sure. A recluse? To some degree. He was a little egotistical, jaded, and judgmental, too, but nothing about him screamed murderer. Her hunches were solid as gold. She suspected the police were barking up the wrong tree, and Nikolai wasn’t their guy.
Slipping away from her thoughts, she fell back into the soft, warm lap of relaxation, but not even ten minutes later, her phone buzzed. This time, it was a text message. She turned her body just so and looked down at the screen, attempting to read it without picking it up.
Nikolai Raven…
It’s been two weeks, Porsche Lee, and you haven’t come and arrested me.
I’ll admit it’s the first time in my life I’m disappointed about not being in handcuffs.
She placed her hand over her mouth and chuckled.
I want to see you again. Movie? How about Wednesday night?
Let me know. Sweet dreams.
She turned away, ran a bit more hot water to warm the suds, and rested once again, tapping her hand on the side of the basin to the sounds of Beyoncé’s, ’Cuff It Wetter Baby,’ as part of some catchy DJ mashup mix. She glanced at her phone several times, daring herself not to respond, then inhaled sharply, releasing the air in a ragged breath.
Checkmate. Lost a game to myself that I was barely playing…
Phone in hand, she typed:
As tempting as that offer is, I can’t go out with you, Nikolai, due to the circumstances of our acquaintance. I need to remind you that I only accepted your date invitation in order to interview you. I’m flattered though by the offer, and in another space and time, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. Good night to you as well.
Satisfied, she placed the phone back down. Less than a minute later, it glowed and vibrated, beckoning to her that there was a new message.
She leaned over once again and read it…
I can’t accept that answer. Go out with me again and give me another interview if you want. Let me prove to you that I didn’t kill anybody. We had a connection. I respect you and your work. The only thing I want to kill, Porsche, is the doubts in your mind about us. I’ll see you Wednesday night.