Page 117 of Stutter

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It takes Kingston PD twenty minutes to arrive along with an ambulance. I’m already speaking to an officer when they’re hauling his body away.

“And you said his name is Arlo Martinez?” the cop asks, scribbling the information down on his notepad, another officer joining him as soon as the hallway and stairs are cleared. She’s tall, her skin dark, face pleasant, and her hair is braided but the ends are tied into a bun at the nape of her neck.

I clear my throat. “Yes, Detective Arlo Martinez.”

The cop, whose badge says O’Keeffe, shakes his head. “Wasn’t from our precinct.” His Bostonian accent is loud, the red in his hair and the freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose, are louder.

My gaze snaps up to his green eyes. “Rayne-Moore.”

The second cop, whose badge says Smythe, shakes her head. She’s older and reminds me a lot of Tasha. “We’re friends with most of the tri-town PDs, we see each other at a lot of the social gatherings. That includes detectives,” her head is still going from side to side, but she lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Never seen a Martinez I didn’t know. Families included Mr. Harrington.”

“Me either.” O’Keefe agrees. “I’ve been with this precinct for twenty years now, my father was Chief of Police before he retired and I’m telling you; this wasn’t one of our detectives.”

“But he gave me a card. It said-“

“Professor,” Smythe interrupts me and takes me to the side, her partner going to one of the EMTs waiting for an order to either take him to the hospital or straight to the coroner. It’ll be the latter. “I was one of the cops that showed up when that poor girl downstairs was found.”

I hold my breath, opening my mouth to tell her Raven is my student and my boyfriend’s patient, that we were having a celebratory dinner with her boyfriend and that’s why they were here. Even if that even made sense that both my students would be here. I’m ready to lie-again– to say I do this with my best students, invite them over for dinner.

But Smythe doesn’t let me get a word out.

Her voice lowers into a whisper, “Things on that campus are fuckingseedyat best, Agent Harrington.”

I snap my mouth closed at being calledagentagain.

“My big sister, Auriel disappeared after visiting that campusoncewith a friend. Twenty-two years ago. She’s the whole reason I became a cop. But her case went cold, and they closed it because back then and even now – black girl goes missing, nobody bats an eye… But ifthey’rein your home, able to break in, you need to watch your back. If they weren’t here for you, they were here for her. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

I nod mindlessly, chills rushing up my spine.

“They’ll finish what they started.” She eyes me up and down. “You got somewhere else you can go? If you do, pack your shit. Get out of Kingston. You aren’t safe here anymore… none of you are.”

Whoosh whoosh whoosh.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Raven.

Simon Hoover’s funeral is shitter than Tyler’s was. Hardly anyone but close family and maybe a handful of Syndicate members showed up due to the gravity of what they found after his death.

It’s being held at Mr. Hoover’s estate in Maine, a familial cemetery in the backyard, and there’s a few paparazzi standing outside of his gates, just waiting to see who would be associated with such a gruesome person. I’m not here for that. I’m not even here for Jonas.

No, I’m here for myself. And Sabrina. Her new fiancé stands behind her, but I thread the tips of my gloved fingers with hers. No one is crying as he’s lowered into the ground. Nobody drops the white rose they’re holding into the ground. I step forward, and drop my red one, turning and going to stand behind a tree, away from view, watching the snow fall as one by one, they drop their white roses into the grave, and turn to leave.

Nobody staying behind for a meeting.

Nobody grieving.

Good fucking riddance.

For the first time, I feel like I did agoodthing.

No, guilt hasn’t eaten away at me, but as I stare off into the distance, loving the scenery, wishing Maverick were here to enjoy the silence of the cemetery with me, I swear I see a hooded figure behind the trees, hiding from me.

Olly-Olly Oxen Free!I shout in my head at my shadow. I swear their head pops up as if they heard me, but soon they disappear between the naked, bare trees, their branches heavy and dipping from the ice and snow. This game of hide-and-seek we’re playing is exhausting and I’m ready to either kill them – or die trying to.

“Raven?”

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