“Do you really believe you have authority over me?” I tilt my head. “Do you think these bars will protect you? That I can’t get to you whenever I want? I wouldn’t make that mistake again, if I were you.”
Carr doesn’t acknowledge my threat with a verbal response, but the nod he gives me is enough. His submission has been acquired.
He thrusts the package through the bars, his voice tight. “Here.”
I take it with deliberate slowness, brushing my fingers against his as I pull it into my grasp. He flinches at the contact, stepping back quickly, his left leg dragging more than usual as he retreats. I smile, watching the way he hurries to put distance between us.
“Wait. I need a pen.”
The guard stops. It’s against the rules, but after my demonstration of power, we both know they don’t apply to me.
He nods. “I’ll get you one.”
“Thanks, Carr,” I call after him, my tone light, almost cheerful. “You’ve been such a big help. Really above and beyond.”
He doesn’t respond, just keeps walking with his shoulders stiff and his footsteps echoing unevenly down the corridor. I watch him until he’s out of sight, then turn my attention to the box in my hands. The ribbon is soft beneath my fingers and the scent of magnolia seeps through the packaging to waft under my nose.
I walk over to my bed and sit down before opening the box with care. Inside lies the candle I ordered, white and pristine, the wax so smooth it practically gleams. I run my finger along the surface and the scent intensifies, making me smile.
This candle is a more personal approach to luring Geneva back to me. It’ll be a soft but undeniable reminder of my presence, something she’ll breathe in with every flicker of the flame.
I set the candle back in its box, wrapping it in the folds of Bordeaux ribbon, draping the rich silk around it like a garment. Once the packaging is restored, I get to my feet and walk to the door.
“Officer Carr,” I sing-song. “Hurry up. I have shit to do.”
CHAPTER 25
GENEVA
Sarah and I settle into the backseat of the ride share. The hum of the engine vibrates through the seats as the driver pulls onto the quiet street. The air smells of the spicy dish Sarah insisted I try tonight, clinging to our clothes, a reminder of the good food and even better company.
The city is dark, dotted with the warm glow of streetlights and passing headlights. Despite the calm surrounding me, there’s a tightness in my chest, one I’ve been trying to ignore all evening. Sarah’s been good at keeping me distracted, but the silence between us now allows my thoughts to creep back in.
André Bisset and Luis Dominguez.
Their names have been replaying in my mind like a broken record since the moment Ghost gave them to me. I looked them up, using every government database at my disposal. Tools I wasn’t supposed to touch for something this personal, making every keystroke a gamble, a risk to my job.
And what did I find?
Nothing.
Not a single record. No criminal histories, no financial ties, nothing in the databases I’ve trusted for years. These men are ghosts, just like the man who gave me their names.
The disappointment lingers, a constant ache in the pit of my stomach. I can’t decide if it’s the failure itself or the thought that Ghost might have been lying. Maybe this was all just another game to him, another way to fuck with me.
I glance out the window, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across my face. My reflection stares back at me, distorted in the glass, and I wonder for the hundredth time if asking Ghost for information was worth this heartache.
Yes. I’ll chase any lead if there’s even the smallest chance it will bring me closer to the truth behind my parents’ murders. No matter what it does to me emotionally.
Sarah snaps her fingers in front of my face, dragging me back. “Earth to Geneva. Are you listening?”
I blink, forcing a smile. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
She narrows her eyes at me but doesn’t press. “I was saying you need to loosen up. Seriously, when’s the last time you had a little fun that didn’t involve analyzing someone’s psyche or reading some depressing case study?”
“I’m literally having fun right now,” I counter, waving my hand toward her as proof.
She scoffs. “This isn’t just fun. This is funandme dragging you out of your self-imposed hermit hole for some basic human interaction. Bare minimum, Geneva.”
