Page 13 of Zero Hour

He remembered.

Pat pressed on. “She lost control on an icy road and wrapped her car around a tree.”

Raymond exhaled and rested his hands on his large gut. “That was a long time ago. My memory’s a little fuzzy.”

“Let me refresh it.” Pat placed the manila folder on the desk.

Raymond hesitated—just for a second—before opening it.

That pause told Pat everything.

The guy knew something. Something he wasn’t saying.

Raymond skimmed his own handwritten notes, squinting. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“You were first on the scene.”

Raymond nodded. “Yeah. It was bad. She lost control, skidded on ice, hit the tree. Killed on impact.”

“What did you do?”

“Checked for signs of life, but she was gone. Nasty head wound.”

Pat nodded.

“And the car?” he asked. “Anything else inside?”

Raymond hesitated, eyes flicking to the file. “What do you mean?”

Pat’s stare didn’t waver. “I mean like a note.”

Raymond blinked. “A note? You think she—what? Took her own life? That’s ridiculous. I saw the wreck. Nobody would do that to themselves.”

Pat didn’t flinch. “I’m not saying suicide.”

The man was rattled. Flustered.

He knew.

“Well, then what?” Raymond demanded.

Pat leaned forward. “I think you found a note. A note that proves her death wasn’t an accident.”

Raymond shot out of his chair, voice rising. “That’s absurd!”

Pat didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

When he spoke, his voice was like ice. “You’re lying, Sergeant. You covered it up. Why? Paperwork too much of a hassle? Didn’t want to deal with a homicide case?”

Raymond’s shoulders slumped and he let out a slow hiss. He sank back down into his chair, guilt written all over his face. “I saw it immediately. It was stuck to her body. Soaked in her blood.”

Pat balled his hands into fists. “What did it say?”

Raymond closed his eyes. “Now we’re even.”

Pat exhaled.

The Falcon had wanted Pat to know. He’d made sure the message was clear. An eye for an eye.

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