He opened the folder, and one by one, photographs slid across the table.
Rich. Or what was left of him.
Giani. Blood spread beneath her body while pieces of her face painted the concrete.
G5. Her cousin. His skin was filleted, chunks of muscle and flesh missing.
I almost smiled at that.
The girl from his car, hanging upside down as her blood soaked his vehicle. Her neck bent at an angle that made my own ache.
Several guards from Rich’s house.
The pictures spread across the table until death surrounded me from every direction.
Mercer watched my face carefully. Vega stared at my eyes.
I didn’t react. At least, I didn’t think I did.
Vega studied me quietly for another moment before tapping a finger against the photographs spread across the table.
“That’s a lot of bodies connected to one woman,” he said evenly.
I kept my eyes on him, but my lips were sealed.
Mercer scoffed as he shook his head. “You’re wasting your time, man. She ain’t gon’ say shit.”
Vega ignored him and continued. “What I’m trying to figure out is whether all this started before or after your accident.”
Something twisted inside me, but I stayed quiet.
“You spent a year in a coma, then when you wake up, bodies start dropping.” Mercer leaned forward again, his words an accusation, not a question. “Rich. Giani. G5. Guards from Rich’s house. You had something to do with those murders, didn’t you?”
I yawned.
“You think they had something to do with what happened to her that night?” Vega asked Mercer as if I wasn’t sitting there. “Is that what this is? Revenge?” He looked at me.
A gust of cold air drifted through the room from the vent above the detectives, carrying Vega’s cologne with it. The scent hit me out of nowhere. It was clean, masculine, and for a split second, all I smelled was Booda’s soap.
Suddenly, I was back in my apartment the day he showed up at my door.
“Niggas could’ve killed me, I would’ve been fine with that. But if anybody had touched you…” His words trailed off before he huffed a short laugh. “I was ready to wipe out whole families behind you.”
A beat passed.
“Then you came to me, talking about robbing the city like it was nothing.” He shook his head, a real smile breaking through. “That’s when I knew. I said, yeah… that’s my wife.”
He rubbed his jaw, thinking back.
“Man, we were different when we were broke. We paid attention to everything. Who had it, who didn’t, and nothing got past us.”
“I don’t know what you talking about,” I said, a half-smile creeping in as I let myself drift with him.
“Yeah, you do.” He grinned.
I shook my head and reached for my chips. “You need to let that go. That stuff’s behind us.”
“Is it?” He tilted his head, studying me. The humor disappeared.
