Page 66 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

He chuckles. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’ve been trying to get your attention. If you don’t meet me at the location I am going to text you,alone, then I’ll go another round. And I won’t stop until I get what I want.”

“Who is this?” he growls.

“I hope you’re smart enough to put two and two together,James.Or these deaths will be on you.”

I end the call and pull up the messages. The phone rings, and I end the call to type out the message. I’m interrupted two more times before I can get it out. Once I see that it’s sent, I pull the sim card, crack it in half, and throw it and the cell into the harbor.

“Do you think he’ll show?” Lilah asks as we walk toward the city, the ocean at our backs.

“Yes. Will your uncle?”

She nods, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Yes.”

She’d called him earlier, using a different tactic. She told him that her boyfriend was really upset about what happened because he’s an asshole. She’s scared and needs his help. He all too willingly obliged. It’s a good thing she doesn’t really need help because that isn’t what he plans on giving her. Thankfully he was still in the area. Funnily enough, it was because of Violet’s murders. I’ll have to thank her.

We’re set to meet at an old warehouse across town tonight.

I don’t know a thing about my brother, but… he’ll show. I have a feeling he noticed being called out and didn’t tell anyone. His life is boring, and I think he likes the mystery and the attention of it. Of course, I could be way off, and we could be walking into a trap. Guess only time will tell.

While in Boston, I take Lilah to dinner. We get seafood and have wine. We walk around Faneuil Hall, going in and out of stores, but the only thing we buy is ice cream. I get plainchocolate, while she gets some strawberry cheesecake thing with graham crackers, a ton of whipped cream, and extra cherries.

We walk around until the sun goes down and the wind is bitter cold. That’s when we make our way to the parking garage to get my car. I wait a few for it to warm up and then we take off. We stop home first, needing to switch cars and clothes, and then we head to the warehouse.

It’s empty and pitch black. I park around the back, certain no one else is here or even watching the place.

I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never had to stage a scene, and I wonder how it’s going to go. Will the cops know right away that it’s a ploy? How long will it take them to figure it out? Maybe they won’t figure it out at all. As everything else, only time will tell.

Chapter Thirty-One

Lilah

I’ve never been so nervous in all my life. Not only about seeing my uncle, buteverything… the murders, the plan, seeing my uncle. Atticus is calm and certain everything will go well, but I can’t help the fear that’s crawling through my veins like a venomous snake. This is dangerous, and though his plan is solid, it’s not a guarantee. I don’t want to get caught. Not only because I don’t want to go to jail, but because I can’t be away from him. Atticus is my life now. Being without him is not an option.

The next few days are going to be rough as we wait for things to play out. This doesn’t end tonight. It’s going to take time for the bodies to be found, for police to put the pieces together—or try. And they will try because these aren’t just ordinary people. They aren’t Boston’s finest mobsters or drug dealers. JamesErickson is a cop. My uncle is an FBI agent. This is going to make headlines all over. It’s going to catch the attention of a lot of people. I’m not sure Atticus understands that. Not because of ignorance but because he’s so caught up in the outcome that he isn’t paying attention to everything else.

The warehouse is freezing, and being on the top floor makes it worse. The windows are busted open, so the wind blows in, biting at my exposed skin. It feels like we’ve been in here forever by the time I see the first flash of lights coming down the dirt road. My heart jumps into my throat as I wait for it to get closer.

Not a cop car.

At least, not a marked one.

From up here, on the fourth floor, we can see a good distance out. There isn’t much around here other than trees. There’s another abandoned building across the lot, but there’s only the one road in and out. These buildings were used to store furniture, and when the place went out of business, these buildings became forgotten. During the warmer weather, you’ll find homeless people, drug addicts, and teenagers fucking. The cops try to keep the riff-raff out, but it’s the least of their concerns on most days.

The SUV parks, its lights shut off, the door opens and then it echoes loudly as it closes. I take a slow, deep breath, trying to keep myself calm.

This isn’t even the part that should give me anxiety. We’ve killed enough people already, and none of them have made me this nervous. Atticus has killed ten times what we’ve done together. Probably more. No, this part, the killing part, should be easy.

There’s so much to lose here, tonight. More than ever before.

“It’s okay, Kitten,” Atticus says as he turns toward me. “Everything is going to be fine.”

I stare into his dark eyes, his face shadowed by the moon.

I hope he’s right. After my father was taken away from me, I almost didn’t make it. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I lose Atticus.

He leans down to kiss my forehead, his lips lingering for a long moment, before he steps over to the chair and the duffel back of equipment we brought. Handcuffs. Chains. Zip Ties. Rope. Duct Tape. A screwdriver, nails, and a hammer. The list goes on…

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