Page 11 of Edge of Control

I closed out of the website and went back to the evidence from today’s scene. I revisited the poem that had been left on the camera. So odd for there to be just one photo in there and for it to relate to a raven. I wondered if this was more of a calling card than anything else.

And what was with the changing of names in the poem? Who was Marielle? I dug a little more, trying to see if Ricky had a relative or friend named Marielle. Reopening Instagram, I combed through his posts, his tags, his comments.

No one named Marielle. But I did find a comment left by someone who appeared to have the same last name as him. It was simply a “congrats” under a picture of Ricky graduating from cosmetology school. A family member?

I clicked over. Certainly looked like an older brother.They had the same eyes, same hair—but no pictures together. Odd.

I sent him a DM, asking if I could contact him about Ricky to discuss what happened and who might have done it. I was shocked to get a reply almost instantly.

Not interested.

Hmm, weird.

I replied back, asking if he could please jump on a call. I just wanted some answers. It would be quick, I promised.

There was a longer stretch of time before another DM came through. It simply had a phone number.

I tapped the number and stood up from my chair. This could be another solid lead. The phone gave a couple of rings before a gruff-sounding “Hello” greeted me from the other end.

“Thank you for taking my call, Justin,” I said.

“What is this about?”

“I’m investigating the death of someone you may know. His name is Ricky Walters.”

“Fuuuck. That’s my cousin.”

“I’m sorry to break the news like this.”

There was a deep exhale followed by a dark laugh. I cocked my head, eyebrows drawing together. People dealt with shock and grief in various ways, although laughter was one of the more unsettling reactions, even if it was natural. “How’d it happen?” Justin asked.

I didn’t want to go into full detail. I gave him a short rundown, sparing the more gruesome parts, and didn’t bring up the link to the other victim. Not yet. I wanted to keep as much of the case under wraps as possible.

“Damn,” Justin said. He must have been driving; the wind echoed around him. “Honestly, though, it’s not a surprise.”

I was glad I was speaking to Justin over the phone because a flash of surprise twisted my features. I kept my tone neutral. “How so?”

“My cousin was into some messed-up stuff. Running around in dark circles. I tried talking to him about it, but he kept shutting me out. I was the only one left in the family who even interacted with him. After the disaster at my mom’s birthday party, everyone cut him off. Even his own parents.”

Interesting.

“What happened at the party?”

“He brought his boyfriend with him. An older guy, full of tattoos and scars. Everyone in the family was fine with him being gay, but no one liked this guy from the jump. He was rude and dismissive. A huge jerk. Then he got into it with my dad. The fight escalated until the guy pulled a gun out. He shot it three times; one bullet grazed my freaking ear. And Ricky ended up leaving with him. He defended him, saying my dad was in the wrong. No one spoke to him after that.”

I opened up a black leather notebook on my desk and jotted this down. “Do you have a name for the boyfriend?”

“Just a first name: Gio.”

“And how long ago was this incident?”

“Last year.”

“You said Ricky was into some ‘messed-up stuff.’ Is there anything besides Leo’s actions that made you think that?”

There was a brief pause. “Listen, I don’t judge; I’m not that kind of guy. But he didn’t have the most noble of professions. He was an escort. And sex work is fine, but there were rumors that he was involved in something darker.”

“What rumors?” I pressed. I could feel something just beneath the surface of what Justin was telling me. I felt like a bloodhound hot on the trail.

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