“ButIngram,” Rio says, pinning me with a somber gaze, “was in charge of the case.”
Enzo glances over at his brother with something I can’t detect. Sympathy? Concern? Whatever it is, this particular death feels personal.
Gabriel sits on the rocking chair Santi brought in here. “Yes, they’re ten years apart, but there’s one common thread.”
“Ingram…” Thoughts swirls around my mind. “But that’s to be expected. There aren’t that many officers in this town.”
Rio pushes off the wall. “I never thought anything about him before. He seems like a decent man. But if he’s fucked up this case, and there was another just like it ten years ago that was closed by him...”
Gabriel unwraps a piece of gum and pops it into his mouth. “Coincidences don’t mean much. Patterns do.”
I look away for a second, jaw tight enough to crack. “So you’re either saying Ingram is a really shitty cop or he’s messed up on purpose.”
Rio tilts his head. “Both are bad, which is why you need to know.”
“Freyaneeds to know,” I correct him.
Even though I’m really fucking glad they’ve come to me, too.
Before anyone can say more, my cell buzzes. Freya’s name lights up the screen.
Freya
At the station. All good. Heading to the junkyard and impound earlier now. 12pm.
My stomach knots. Then another text.
Freya
Can you be there?
Fuck. She’s nervous.
Me
Right behind you, honey.
Shadow mode.
I don’t wait for the sawdust to settle. I grab my jacket off the hook and move for the door. I don’t have as much time as I thought. If I’m going to get into position without being seen, I need to go.
Gabriel’s eyes track me. He can tell something just shifted.
“Freya doesn’t know about the other death,” I say. “And it can’t come from me.”
He studies me for half a second longer, then nods. He gets it. His fiancée is an independent woman with a capital I. I don’t want Freya feeling like they never intended to loop her in, too.
“Give her the facts,” I add. “Anything she needs to pull the file.”
Rio straightens. “I’ll get together what I can today and touch base with her tomorrow.”
“Fine. She’s busy at the impound this afternoon anyway. But don’t sit on it.”
I step outside into the glare of the afternoon sun, cold air hitting my face, my pulse already ticking faster.
Two women. Same place. Same ending.
Both were written off.
