He stands, but I stay put, my shoulders rolling back. They won’t look into it—hell, he didn’t even write the title down. “I don’t think you mean that, actually.”
“Of course I do! Ethan is a good kid—”
“I’m talking about the book.”
He sits down again. “Look, sweet—”
“Scarlett,” I interject.
“Scarlett,” he repeats after a moment. “Blake’s eyes weren’t removed.”
“But she had abrasions around her eyes, did she not?”
“Yes,” he concedes.
“So what if the killer tried to remove her eyes but couldn’t?”
He looks at his watch, then back at me. “Why not?”
“Maybe it was their first try. Maybe they got spooked. Blake’s daughter called her mom, right? Maybe the phone call—”
“What about the flowers, then? They weren’t in the victim’s mouth.”
I exhale, thinking it through. “Rigor mortis.”
“Excuse me?”
“If the killer was inexperienced, they might not have accounted for the rigor mortis. When the body stiffened, the flowers could have fallen out.” I watch his blotchy face turn a sickly yellow. “Where were the flowers?”
“I can’t tell you that, swee—Scarlett.”
I’ve read countless articles about this—the flowers wereonthe victim. “Down on her chest?” I suggest.
His mouth opens, then closes.
“Look, I’m telling you, it’s just too similar. Someone who read this book committed the murder.”
He leans back in his chair. “Scarlett, where were you Thursday night?”
Oh, come on. “Really?I’myour suspect? I’m solving the caseforyou.” When his expression doesn’t waver, I roll my eyes. “I was home with my cat.”
“Will your cat corroborate your story?”
Realizing he’s just pulling my leg, I sigh and look away.
“Listen here, Scarlett. I’ve been doing this job for thirty years, and I’ve seen it all. You know what happens every time we get a weird case? Every amateur sleuth and conspiracy theorist crawls out of the woodwork.”
I start to protest, but he holds up a hand.
“Last time, we had a fella from two counties over who swore up and down that it was the work of alien abductors. Said the pruning shears we found were actually a sophisticated extraterrestrial weapon. And let’s not forget the conspiracy nuts who thought it was all tied to some government cover-up.”
I feel my face flush with frustration. “Chief, you know me. I’m not some crackpot—”
“We’re dealing with an actual victim here, a real family torn apart,” he interrupts. “I can’t go chasing after every wild theory that comes through that door.”
“But this isn’t just some random coincidence. The details are too specific, too exact. Youhaveto look into it.”
He sighs, rubbing his temples. “All right, Scarlett. We’ll be in touch.”
