Page 19 of Evidence of Us

“Shit,” Kevin says. “Boyfriend is here. So is the media. Bag her now.”

Levi works fast to get each of her parts bagged and placed in the van. The media is yelling questions at us, but we ignore them. Eventually, Kevin comes over with Ricky Tulsa.

“Levi,” Kevin says.

“Here? Really?” Levi deadpans. “She is not...”

“Please,” Ricky asks tearfully. “I know it’s bad. I just need to know if that’s my girl. Please.”

“Alright,” Levi says, stepping into the van. The media is at the other end of the van, so Levi can bring the gurney out with each bag on it. “Her head is wrapped, but you can still see her face.”

He unzips the bag, and the most heartbreaking noise comes out of this giant man as he hits his knees. He sobs uncontrollably, begging God to wake him up and see that this is a nightmare, as Kevin comforts him. I try so hard not to tear up, but goddamn it, this isn’t fair. What the fuck is wrong with the world?

“Look into her. I’ll talk to him,” Kevin says to us.

“We’ll go to the station and work,” Zeke says. “We need to make a statement soon.”

“I’d like Mariska to do it. You up for it?” Kevin asks me. “Bring Zeke with you.”

“Okay,” I say nervously.

“Come on,” Zeke says. I nod, and we walk back to my car. My mind is moving too fast as I try to process everything. Zeke takes my hand into his, and I can relax.

I set my coffeecup down and scroll on the tablet as I stand in front of the map. “Last seen on camera at GroceryMart on Collier Avenue,” I say, grabbing a pin and sticking it in place. “And found at Eastside Park along the north end of the woods line.”

“Let’s present real fast before the media storms the place,” Kevin says as he walks in. “Mariska, let’s hear it.”

“Me?” I ask.

“Everyone new runs their first case for a reason,” he tells me, and that relaxes me a bit.

“Harper Sloane, age thirty. She lives with her boyfriend, Richard Tulsa, at 900 King Street, Loft 22C. According to her license, she is five feet three inches, and social media shows she had waist-length brown curly hair as of three days ago. She is curvy, and she works as a… Luxury PR executive,” I say. “She was last seen thirty-six hours ago at a grocery store and was found mostly clean, with a shaven head, and dismembered, wrapped in plastic wrap, on the north end of Eastside Park… So we have nine connected victims. But this has something new with the brownish substance on her nails.”

“Levi texted and said she had what looked like wood shavings under her nails,” Geno says, and I scribble that into the notes on the tablet.

“Alright. Let’s talk to the media,” Kevin says. “I’ll come out with you instead, since I’m back. After, go check in with Levi.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “I don’t look presentable.”

“It’s the middle of the night, and we are working on finding a serial killer. No one should expect you to look runway ready,” Kevin says.

“We should probably say this before you go out,” Zeke says to me.

“Go ahead,” Kevin says.

“We are together,” Zeke says. “I am divorcing Meghan and have already moved out. We can keep drama out of the office and…”

“If you had to choose between saving Geno or Mariska, but Geno had better odds, which would you pick?” Kevin asks him.

“I’d save Geno,” he says. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try to go back and get Riss, but logically, Geno has better odds.”

“What about you? Levi or Zeke, but Levi would be more likely to survive?” Kevin asks me.

“Levi,” I say. “Zeke can just haunt me.”

“I’d do bad things to you as a ghost,” Zeke says with a grin.

“As long as you two can be logical and put the team first when you are here, we won’t have a problem,” Kevin says. “We can sign something later. Come on, Mariska.”