Page 126 of Lethal Danger

“When Cora got to the office after her narcotics gig, she got a look at the photo you sent earlier.” Jazz threw a glance at Nev. “Then she sent me one of Sam Ackerman’s dad, Gary Ackerman.”

“Why?” Nevaeh asked the question on the tip of Hawthorne’s tongue.

Jazz lifted her phone and extended it toward Hawthorne first, the screen facing him.

He stepped in closer to see the image, shading it from the sunlight with his hand.

It couldn’t be.

Gary Ackerman was Freddie Blain.

Thirty-Five

Jazz lingered in bed after her alarm had gone off. She felt for her phone on the nightstand and lit up the screen, checking the news as she always did briefly before starting the day.

The national news was as depressing as always, so she swiped past that to reach local coverage.

A picture of Gary Ackerman, alias Freddie Blain, featured at the top of the headline article. No surprise his arrest had made the news, given how much the press had been following the events at the fair. Hadn’t been pretty seeing the police surprise Freddie at his food stand and cuff him.

The look on his face had kept her up for a while last night. Shock. Hurt.

Jazz had almost felt guilty, given her part in the whole thing. The PK-9 Agency was responsible for his arrest, since Cora had been the one to tell the police his true identity, prompting the arrest for sabotage and the murder of Aunt Joan.

But right after his initial shock, Freddie—Gary—had become angry instead, shouting that the police were letting the guilty get away with murder. Poor man had been seriously messed up by the death of his son. It was like his life ended when his son’s had.

Jazz had spotted Hawthorne talking to Gary briefly before the police put him in a squad car. But she hadn’t heard what they’d said. And she hadn’t been able to catch Hawthorne after that, thanks to the detectives questioning them about Gary, too.

“You awake?” Nev appeared in the doorway, her curls freed of her satin cap but the rest of her still clothed in the tank top and cotton shorts she wore as pj’s. She carried two mugs of something steaming in her hands.

“Coffee?” Jazz slipped out of bed and hurried around it, her hands stretched toward Nev. “Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Nev swung the mug away from Jazz’s grasping fingers. “What’s the magic word?”

“Um, please?” Jazz pasted on an exaggerated smile.

“And ‘thank you,’ but that will do, I guess.” She put the mug in Jazz’s grip with a grin.

“You’ve been spending way too much time with your nieces and nephews.” Jazz took a sip of the hot coffee, not minding the little burn as it slipped down her throat.

“I let all the dogs out, and they’re back in, chowing down breakfast.”

Jazz gave Nev a grateful smile. “I figured, since Flash didn’t wake me before my alarm for once. Thanks.”

“Did you see the news?” Nev’s mouth formed a straighter line as she looked at Jazz.

“Yeah. It’s hard to swallow. He seemed like such a nice guy.”

“Been there.”

Jazz tensed, hoping Nev wouldn’t wander too far into her frightening memories.

But Nev’s expression was calm. Didn’t look like she was going to have a PTSD episode. Even though Jazz knew she must be thinking of her own attacker who’d also played nice before revealing himself to be a monster.

Nev drank from her mug, then lowered it. “Cora texted. Phoenix got to watch the detectives question Ackerman last night.”

Jazz walked to the end of the bed and sat down. “Did he admit anything?”

“No.” Nev went to sit beside Jazz. “Cora said he kept insisting he only used the false name so he could investigate his son’s death and find the person he thinks killed him. He apparently didn’t break any laws by using the name Freddie Blain. He really is Jim Morris’s cousin, so he didn’t put his fake ID on tax documents or anything like that. Cora didn’t think the police would be able to hold him beyond seventy-two hours.”

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