Page 87 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

“Right,” she says. “But he doctored his timesheet.”

She slaps a printed parole doc on the board under his name.

“He claimed he was on shift. But the PO logs say he took off for a holiday—the week before, not the week of.”

I tilt my head. “So, he lied about being at work.”

“Exactly. Why lie—unless you weren’t supposed to be where you were?”

I feel the snap—the click I’ve been chasing.

“So he was there,” I add in. “At the exchange.”

She nods. “And he saw something.”

Or someone.

My pulse stirs. He got leaned on. Tried to cover it with a shitty lie.

I glance at her again. Still holding the marker. Already chasing the next thread.

She stares at the board like she sees the next ten moves. Then she gives a sharp nod.

Shit.

I’ve seen that look before. Right before someone barrels into something they’re not ready for.

Before I can ask, she’s already moving—tossing the marker on the table and grabbing her bag.

“Where the hell are you going?” I push off the table.

“To fix your timeline,” she calls, halfway to the door.

“Slow down,” I snap, following. “This guy’s a piece of work. Shifty. Allergic to telling the truth.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Then tag along. Or stay here. I’ve interviewed worse.”

I watch her go. Each step down the corridor like a countdown.

Everything in me says this is a terrible idea. She’s brash and impulsive. Not even supposed to be here.

But she saw it. Saw what I didn’t. Found a thread I didn’t even know was loose.

And now she’s pulling it—with or without me.

I hate it.

I hate how right she is.

I hate that I already want to know what she finds next.

My control’s slipping. And if I don’t follow her, I lose the case and the upper hand.

Fuck me.

“Hold on. I’ll drive.”

We pull up to the warehouse midafternoon. Sun beating down, concrete radiating heat, the entire block smelling like rust and burnout. A graveyard of forklifts and secondhand pallets out front. The kind of place where men clock in hungover and clock out looking for trouble.

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