Page 42 of Death Raiser

“So, it’s Odette?” I had already assumed as much, but spirits didn’t wear name tags.

“Yes.” Jacobs sat down on a dining room chair. “Single bullet wound to the head. Execution style.”

“Could this be the guy?” I asked. “For the other murders?”

“Doesn’t feel right,” Kang said.

Rather ominous. What did that even mean?

“He could be.” Jacobs scratched his chin. “But it’s also possible he knows the killer and was helping with clean up.”

Kang stayed kneeling beside the man and searched his pockets. If this guy was a professional, Kang wouldn’t find much.

My stomach twisted. “Somehow the latter seems worse. I would do a lot for my bestie, but I’d draw the line at murder.”

Kang snorted and stood from where he’d crouched near the unknown man. “Lark. We both know you’d kill and then some to protect your brother and Brandon. But this doesn’t feel like a sibling or bestie rage-killing.”

“How so?”

“Too clean.” Kang and Jacobs answered in unison.

“Killer for hire?” I asked. “I’ve never met an assassin before.” Other than my brother, of course.

“Sure you have,” Jacobs said.

I blinked at him. Shit. Did he know about Logan, too? Had Kang told him?

Jacobs leaned in. “You’ve met them, you just didn’t know they were assassins.” He turned to Kang. “Did you find anything on him?”

Phew. Thank you Jacobs for changing the subject. I didn’t relish discussing my potential knowledge of assassins. I tried not to release all the pent-up air from my lungs.

Kang glanced over and smirked. He said he knew who and what my brother was. How much did he know and how did he find out?

Before I could ponder the answers to those questions, Kang held out a card. “Just this.”

He flicked it back and forth so we could inspect both sides. One side of the parchment-coloured card was blank, and the other side had a seven-digit number, starting with three very familiar numbers.

“Phone number?” I asked.

“That’s a B.C. area code if it is,” Jacobs nodded. “Local.”

“Let’s find out.” Kang pulled out a black flip phone, presumably a burner and punched the numbers. He turned on the speaker phone and we huddled around, waiting to see if anyone would pick up.

“Spiral,” a familiar voice spoke through the phone.

I stiffened. Jacobs raised both blond eyebrows. Kang’s expression remained blank and devoid of emotion.

Instead of saying anything, Kang hung up and exchanged a look with Jacobs.

“That was Grant, the club owner at Spiral.” I pointed at Kang’s burner.

“The same fuckstick who tried to barter for a dance with you,” Kang spoke with clipped words.

Now wasn’t the time to point out that Grant hadn’t simply tried, he’d succeeded.

And I’d made him pay for the audacity.

“I saw him the other day. Apparently, my dancing skills weren’t as much of a deterrent as I’d originally hoped,” I said.

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