From X.
“What do you want me to do with Raven?”
My hands are trembling, and I can’t help the smile that tugs on my lips as I type in my response.
“Take him to Arlo, unharmed.”
There’s the typing bubble, but it disappears for a moment. My heart is beating rapidly inside of my chest, excitement unlike anything I’ve known lately slowly filling my veins.
“And the girl?”
“Take her to Arlo, too. He’ll know what to do with her.”
???
“Is this everything you’ve got on her?”
Kaya nods. “That’s everything there is on her. Trust me, my sources have never failed me.”
I’m sitting on the floor, with a cigarette in my hands. I’m no smoker, but Kaya says it’s a good stress reliever. Besides, she’s been trying to get my heroin usage down to a minimum, and I guess, it’s a substitute, although I’m slowly feeling the withdrawal symptoms. Though, it could be just in my head. I took a line this afternoon.I can hold it off for a while, right?
There are papers spread all around, with Kaya sitting right across from me. It’s everything she’s compiled about Amy Marshall. From her early childhood, to the time she left Long Grove and was presumed dead, to the moment we captured her. And God, did she keep herself busy all these years.
“Somehow, it’s not really that far-fetched that she became a serial killer, but why am I struggling to come to terms with that?”
Kaya shrugs. “Probably because most serial killers, who are also paid hitmen, don’t leave traces the way she does. The only reason she’s yet to be caught is the fact that she has powerful people behind her. Otherwise, she would’ve been caught ages ago.”
“Mmm, and she has quite the name in the media, no? The Death Angel.”
Kaya rolls her eyes. “Please, the name is as cliché as they get. But this is what you needed, isn’t it?”
I smile. “Absolutely. All I need now is for Arnault to take the bait.”
“I wouldn’t be quick to trust him, though. If he does agree to the meeting, I’m coming with you. Who knows if he’ll have you cornered? It won’t be easy to get you out of prison a second time,” Kaya’s tone comes as a warning, and given her expertise, I’m inclined to take it into consideration.
“This is enough, I think. He’ll want Amy more than he wants Arlo. Especially now, with Hudson dead, he won’t have much use of the De Santis family,” I rub my temples, praying a headache doesn’t appear.
“Let’s just pray you’re right, because if you’re not, we’ll get into even deeper shit,” she mutters.
“Do you think I should give him another call?”
“I mean, yeah, if you want to. You gave him a month, but if you want to speed it up, set up a meeting for tomorrow night. I’djust be careful. If you call him too soon, he might think you’re panicking and in a bind.”
I sigh, grabbing another sheet of paper, studying Amy’s crimes. Before I make the decision whether or not to give agent Arnault a call, I need to memorize and learn everything there is to know about Amy.
As far as her hitman job goes, she was taking any job she could get. Age, gender, race never mattered. She only took the jobs that promised a high payment, and she’d always take the downpayment in person, half of the full price. There are a few labeled spots where Kaya found she was taking payments, and there are a few images that I’ve set aside. He’ll need all the proof I have of her jobs, it will be solid enough to send her to prison. However, as The Death Angel, her killings make no sense. There is only one thing tying all these murders together — a small jar that’s found next to the victims, full of blood, with a black ribbon tied around it.
Some of her victims were older couples, recently retired. They were not necessarily wealthy for her to have any gain from the kills, and the more I’m skimming through these papers, the more I’m certain that she’s just been killing random people. Some were left in dark alleyways, others in parks, or even their own homes. My stomach drops when I inspect the crime scene photos, nausea building in the back of my throat. Amy is killing for the love of the game, no other reason.
“Fuck,” I blow out, lowering the papers and taking another drag of the cigarette. “The bitch is crazy.”
“And far too reckless. Can you guess how many killing sprees I’ve had in my life?”
“Uh, no?”
“Exactly,” Kaya nods. “Because I cover my tracks up very well. Amy, on the other hand, was bound to be arrested at some point. Guess you’re her karma, then.”
“I’m still creeped out by the fact that we look so freakishly alike.”
