Page 35 of The Gentleness of Rage

“Shit, I feel bad. Mac told us Ariel came begging for her job back, but he threw her out. How did she die?”

“Victim was beaten, and her throat slit. Whoever beat her did so for the fun of it, they got enjoyment out of it,” Ben said. He looked weary and tired, and Slate felt sorry for him.

“Fuck.”

“Did Ariel have a boyfriend? Husband? Girlfriend?” Ramirez asked.

Slate glanced at him incredulously. “Do I look like I stand around gossiping with the waitresses?”

“You might have overheard something or walked in on a girl pow-wow,” Ramirez replied with a sigh.

“Nah. Not that I can think of. Your best bet is to speak to the other girls and there were two others we sacked. Hailee tended the bar, Skylar waited tables. We were incredibly annoyed because all three called in sick and headed to a concert, leaving us in the lurch. That’s why they were all fired. No one held a grudge, to my knowledge. But I’m not at the bar often enough to witness problems. We alternate weekends.”

“True. We’ll speak to Mac. And we’ll need your date’s address,” Ben said, pulling out a notebook.

Slate eyed Ben steadily. “Jaelynn won’t tell you any different.”

Ramirez frowned. “We have to cross out Ts and dot our Is.”

“Why so reluctant?” Ben pushed.

“Ah, shit. Look, I’ll take you to Jaelynn, but you can’t interview her without me,” Slate responded.

“What’s going on, Slate?” Ramirez asked.

“Jaelynn’s running from an abusive relationship. She’s not trusted me with the details yet, but we’re building something. Whoever this guy is, Jaelynn is terrified,” Slate replied.

“Sorry, Slate. We’ll go easy, but you know we need to talk to her to clear you,” Ben said.

“Yeah. This ain’t gonna be pretty. Let me do the talking at first.”

“That we can do,” Ramirez agreed.

Jaelynn

I had boxes everywhere, and it was great! Jared had stacked everything neatly, and I was sitting at the desk putting away the stationery I had bought. Pens, pencils, drawing pins, the whole lot went into the drawers, leaving me with the files, punched pockets, and stacks of paperwork. My anal-retentive self was happy as a pig in muck.

The coffee machine had been set up, and Ezra was grateful. I’d put the mixed cookies into a cookie barrel, the sachets of sugar sat in a bowl, and I’d discovered a larger bowl for the milk containers. Ezra had promptly given me a fifty-buck-a-week snack allowance for the office.

Now I had the little label printer out, and I was sorting through the first stack of invoices dated as early as two thousand and two. Ezra’s idea of filing had been to dump everything into a box and write the year on it. This was shaping into a massive nightmare.

I’d decided to put the paperwork in date order before entering them into the new system I had bought. Ezra said my laptop was pretty new, but it lacked the programming I needed. I’d hunted for an office program last night and had uploaded it while I set up the coffee machine.

Once I’d entered the details, it would allow me to create a client profile, and I could see if any were return customers. Ezra also still tracked everything on paper, so I’d installed payroll and Quik Accounting software so he could track things much easier. This was stuff I loved doing.

Luckily for me, Ezra had known how to use a stapler and any receipts relating to the job Ezra had stapled to the invoice. Now, it was just a matter of sorting through and getting them in order—date-wise—and shoving them into a punched pocket. Then I’d print off the client details from the laptop and a label and shove them in the filing cabinet!

I was smiling when the office door opened and Slate entered.

His face was stern, and my smile faded as two men walked in behind. No sooner had I looked, I knew they were cops.

Fear swept over me, and I slammed back, smashing into the wall of the portacabin with my chair. I lifted a hand to ward them off and began curling into myself. A wail escaped my mouth.

“I’m not going back. You can’t make me,” I cried loudly, staring at them.

Slate jumped as an animalistic noise escaped me. His head swivelled between me and the officers, and enlightenment crossed his face.

“Ramirez, Ben, outside now!” Slate snapped.

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