Page 33 of Can You Take It?

“Noah, what’s the deal with the Slasher case?” I ask, focusing on the new lead he’s got.

“Izel mentioned something that got me thinking. She said she was into woodworking as a hobby, and it might lead us to a new angle on this Slasher case,” he says.

We climb into the car, and I grip the steering wheel tight. Everything seems connected to Izel.

“What did she mention exactly?” I press, curious about this unexpected connection.

“She basically said Charles Cooper is our guy. I’ve booked an appointment with him,” Noah explains.

“That’s pretty specific,” I say, starting the engine. “And you think this Charles Cooper guy could lead us somewhere?”

“Yeah, it’s worth a shot. Snakewood isn’t common, especially not around here. If Cooper’s involved in the woodworking scene, he might know something or someone that can give us a lead on SteelSinner and that will ultimately lead us to the Slasher.”

We drive in silence for a few minutes. Noah’s probably replaying the interactions with Izel, dissecting every word and gesture for hidden meanings. We’re both seasoned investigators, yet this case has managed to throw us off balance, making us question our instincts and our ability to see through the layers of deception.

“You ever get the feeling, that everything’s too fucking connected in this case?” I mutter, keeping my eyes fixed on the road.

“You mean with Izel and her suggestions? It’s weird, man, but maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

I shake my head. “I don’t believe in coincidences. What town was Izel from again?”

Noah takes a moment to recall. “I think the reports mentioned something about a town called Hollowbrook.”

“Hollowbrook, huh?” I muse, swerving the car into the adjacent lane with a sharp turn. “You know, I noticed something when I told her to go back to her room. She had this scar onher stomach, and it didn’t look fresh. It was big, like it had been there for a while.”

“You think that’s significant?”

“I do. That scar is too noticeable to have gone unnoticed in her medical records. I want the last fifteen years of Izel’s medical reports. We need to see if there’s something she’s not telling us.”

“I’ll get Luna and Colton to head to Hollowbrook and see if they can dig up those old records. Digital reports weren’t a thing back then, so we might find some old-school paper trail.”

“Good, make it happen.”

Noah starts making calls to set things in motion. The road stretches out ahead, an unending ribbon of asphalt leading us toward answers—or more questions.

We finally pull up to Janson’s Antiques. People are gathered outside. I park the car and jump out, making my way through the throng of onlookers. I spot a guy who looks like he’s been through hell—mid-40s, balding, with a beer gut straining against a stained shirt. I grab his arm, pulling him aside.

“What the fuck happened here?” I demand.

He blinks, wide-eyed, and stammers, “It’s... it’s the owner, Charles. Someone... someone murdered him.”

“Shit,” I mutter, sharing a look with Noah. We push our way through the crowd and enter the shop.

The shop’s interior is a mess, every inch of the walls is covered in erratic splashes of paint—red, blue, black.

Charles’s body is sprawled in the middle of the room. He’s been butchered. There are multiple stab wounds to his chest and stomach.

“Motherfucker,” Noah mutters under his breath.

I crouch down beside the body, careful not to step in the blood. “Look at his hands,” I gesture. “Defensive wounds. He fought back.”

Noah joins me, his eyes scanning the scene. “Yeah, but it didn’t do him any good.”

“Maybe it was the Slasher,” I suggest. “He probably got a wind that we had a lead on Charles and decided to shut him up.”

Noah shakes his head. “It’s not his MO. The Slasher has a specific way of doing things. The paint doesn’t fit.”

“But he has a motive,” I argue. “If Charles knew something that could lead us to the Slasher, it makes sense that he’d want to eliminate the threat.”

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