“It’s not?” Serena asks, stepping up beside me.
Marcus finally turns. “No,” he says to her. Then his eyes settle on me. “Looks more natural, probably a heart attack. I’ll know more after the autopsy.”
I dip my head in a small nod.
Serena sighs dramatically. “Oh,thank god. I really didn’t want another murder case. We have so many pending cases, a new murder would have made me cry right here, right now. I’m not too proud to admit that,” she says.
That’s an unnecessary brag, Serena.
Marcus ignores us and longingly looks at one of the cups in my hand.
“Yes, it is for you. Stop giving me that look. It’s creepy.” I hand him the coffee.
He takes a long sip and sighs satisfactorily. “I was looking at the coffee, not your ugly mug that looks like it hasn’t slept in weeks,” he says. “I told them you weren’t ready to be off the Nick Welfare Check program yet.”
I roll my eyes. “Good thing we don’t have to worry about another murder at least,” I say, keeping the sarcasm on the downlow because Serena is still standing beside me, giving me a betrayed look.
That’s what she gets for all the bragging. “Dominic is getting your coffee. Stop giving me the death glare,” I say.
On cue, Dominic walks over and hands her a cup.
“Marcus thinks it’s something natural, like a heart attack.Why don’t you still take the statement of the person who found him and get the names of the staff who were on shift last night?” I instruct Dominic. Why not do things the easy way when we have the rare opportunity to?
“Also, try to get the contact information of the customers they had last night and the security footage,” I add. Maybe the killer finally slipped and bought a nice cup of coffee from the store to add his drugs to?
Dominic nods and goes back to the shop. Serena and I drive to the precinct after making Marcus promise he’ll call me as soon as he finds something.
This crime scene is different from the others. The killer was clearly out of their comfort zone. If there’s an opening to close in on them, it doesn’t get better than this.
***
After spending three hours with my eyes glued to the second human victim’s phone, looking for clues, I’m ready to smash it on the floor. And crush it with a hammer for good measure. Why was Cami’s sister dating an absolute jerk like him anyway?
I try to avoid judgments on the job. But fuck, he was a piece of shit. Enough to get him tortured and murdered? No, weirdly enough. He was more of a garden-variety jerk. Just your regular misogynist, hateful bigot. Unfortunately, in the world we live in, if people started getting murdered for that, we’d barely be left with half the population.
The digital forensics only got around to unlocking the phone last week, and the data file didn’t have any incriminating information. No death threats. No confessions. Just pages and pages of text that almost convinced me to wash my eyes with bleach.
Not that it was anything new. Personal phones are generally a safe place for people to unleash their true selves. I’ve definitely seen worse. But when you’re torturing yourself to find justice for someone murdered in cold blood, you at least want them to be a decent person. That’s not a big ask.
Apparently, it is because Nathaniel Rambert was not adecent man.
But it’s clear from his texts and social media presence that he did not have any connection to our first victim whatsoever.
I blow out a long breath and decide I need coffee to survive more of this, since cyanide isn’t really an option right now.
I find the pot empty because people in this precinct are heathens. Hopefully, I’ll never have to go through their phones. I start the machine and scroll through my own phone while I wait. What would someone think if they checkedmyphone? Probably that I send non-reply-able texts.
So, I send a very reply-able text to the only person who has given me that feedback.
Me: My day sucks. Hows urs going?
There, that is open-ended enough. Boring, yes, but something that guarantees a response. If it doesn’t get any, at least Elliot can’t blame me for it.
My phone buzzes almost instantly.
Elliot R: The same as every day.
I wait for a few seconds in vain hope that he’ll add something. Of course, he won’t. Continuing a conversation is beneath him.
