Page 16 of The Killer You Know

“Never you mind,” he teases. “I think I’ll call down to the Penalty Box and see if the owner will be in tonight.”

He fiddles with his phone while Nikki traverses back to the Insta Pictures account, right back into the DMs. We start on a scrolling spree just to see if anything new catches our eye. And it does.

“Stop,” I say, pointing to the avatar of a smiling Brittney Walker. “@BWsellshouses, that’s Brittney.” We’re familiar with it and her handle since we slogged through the public side of her account last night, along with Robin’s.

“Huh.” Nikki leans in just as Jack hangs up. “It says, ‘Looks like our past is catching up. Can we meet?’”

Jack shakes his head. “We need to get our hands on Brittney’s laptop and phone if she left it behind.”

“She did,” Nikki says. “It’s still being processed. I’ll ask the team how soon they can release it.”

“Good,” Jack says. “In the meantime, I’d like to ask you ladies out for dinner. There’s an old friend I’d love to introduce you to.”

“I’m in,” I say. “And I want to speak to those other two women who were shot along with Vanessa. See if they can give us a build, a voice, a hint of skin color when it comes to our perp. If we’re on the right track, we could wrap this up quickly.”

“I hope so,” Jack says. “I’ve got a reunion to get to.”

12

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

The Penalty Box pulses with the vibrant energy of a typical sports bar and grill. The clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations blend with the occasional cheer from patrons watching games on the numerous TVs mounted on the walls.

The scent of grilled burgers and fries wafts through the air, making my stomach rumble. And the slight tang of beer is hypnotizing me as well.

The décor is thematic and to the point with various sports memorabilia littering the place. There’s an endless array of jerseys encased in glass frames, trophies, autographed balls of every shape and size, and a few autographed posters as well. Green and yellow neon signs cast a warm glow over the wooden booths and tables and give the patrons a sickly cast to their skin.

The lighting is dim and the music is loud, which lends the place a cozy, if somewhat noisy, appeal. The bar itself is the focal point, with patrons lined up and engaging in animated conversations. Most of those are men hitting on women who look as if they don’t mind.

Jack, Nikki, and I settle into a table for four as the hostess drops off a trio of menus before taking off.

Jack dressed casual for the occasion with jeans and a powder blue dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

Nikki and I are clad in jeans as well with a frilly pink top for Nikki and a red T-shirt that clings to my skin for me. Nikki and I have our weapons in our purses. Not sure if Jack is packing heat, but he is hot I’ll give him that.

Jack and I drove out together and met up with Nikki in the parking lot. I left Buddy at home with a bowl full of food and some show about animals flickering away on TV. He seemed more than content.

“Can you believe it?” Nikki ticks her head wistfully. “We just wrapped up with the last case and we’re knee-deep in another.”

“The unfortunate nature of the beast,” I say. “It’s a wild and wicked world we live in.”

“Speaking of our last case…” She shrugs my way and pauses as if letting me catch up with her. “Did you ever comb through the list of names of the people who were at the compound that night?”

I glance from her to Jack.

“Baxter was being seen for wounds before we left,” Jack tells her. “She may not know that the Bureau was taking the names of every soul there.”

My eyes widen a notch. My heart gives a dramatic thump.

“Wait,” I say, trying to wrap my head around what this could mean. “You’re saying the FBI took the name of every person who left the Paradise compound that night? We had the entire property surrounded?”

“Exactly. They not only took their names but the information of where they thought they’d go since the compound was shut down,” Nikki confirms just as a waitress dressed in short shorts and a white and black striped umpire’s shirt drops off a tray brimming with glasses of water, each with a slice of lemon, before making herself scarce. “I don’t think there’s anyone who slipped out unnoticed. Your sister—if she was there, her name has to be on that list.”

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know this. I mean, she was using a fake name, Angel. And she could have lied again to whoever she spoke with, but still. This could be a solid lead. I need to check that list.”

“I’ll help,” Nikki says with an earnest nod. “Off the books. I don’t care. Whatever you need, Fallon, I’m here to help dig through the data.”

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