Page 22 of Strings Attached
“And how would you know about that?” he asked, not hiding the hint of fury in his tone.
I swallowed several times, trying to get my mouth to work. He squeezed tighter, and I winced.
“It’s how I connected specific murders to you. It’s why you don’t have a set way to kill people... you actually have four. Sometimes, five.”
His hand wrapped around my throat, and I grasped his wrist as he put pressure. “You have one minute to explain exactly what you know, or I’ll show you how easy it is to choke someone and bring them back over and over,” he growled in my ear.
I did my best to ignore how my body reacted to that threat and pointed toward where my kitchen table was. “It’s in my files. I can show you.” It was as though I was running a race with how fast I was panting. Little black spots appeared in my vision, and he released me just as I was feeling weightless.
With a gasp, I leaned forward, away from him, and massaged my neck. I got to my feet, narrowing my eyes at him as I went to the opened box sitting on the chair. It was where I kept the files I’d gotten throughout my years of collecting evidence. I pulled a file out and flipped through to make sure it was the right one.
“Here...” I yelped when I came face to face with him?or rather, to his chest with how tall he was?and nearly dropped the file. “You really need to stop sneaking up on me. You’re going to give me a heart attack.” When he didn’t move, I sighed and grabbed the photos from the folder, spreading them across the table.
He stared at them, then back at me, anger still dancing behind his gaze. “You have around thirty seconds left.”
I rolled my eyes as I picked up one of the photos and pointed at a particular spot. “Every single one of these pictures has a deck of playing cards in them. Some were brought into evidence because there were blood splatters on them. The ones that were brought in, I was able to ask about or look into myself, and one of the jacks was always missing.”
He gave a condescending smile. “And you figured that out with just this?”
“I did. Took years, but I eventually put two and two together.” I raised my head higher in defiance.
He grabbed my throat, and my eyes widened. “You saidfivedifferent ways.”
“The Joker. It was missing twice...”
“And what,” he pulled me closer, so we were almost nose to nose, “is your theory about that?”
“When your victim refuses to choose, you pick for them with a Joker.”
“I knew you were clever, but you’re even more fascinating than I thought.”
“Thank you?” I breathed, unsure if he was still angry or not. I decided to push my luck a bit. “So, what are each card’s options?”
The ghost of a smile touched his lips as he let me go. He pulled out a deck of cards, opening the box and letting them fall into his hands. My heart hammered against my chest as he grabbed the four Jacks and held them up.
“Why don’t you pick one and find out?”
15
Cards
“Spade,” I said, already guessing it would have to do with using a knife.
Each kill was different, depending on the jack type the victims chose, but sometimes, the bodies were maimed beyond belief, and the cause of death was difficult to determine.
Jack motioned for me to take the card, and I did, holding it against my chest as though it might protect me from him. “That one is stabbing.”
I was about to ask about the others but if he’d wanted to tell me, he would’ve. “Now what?”
“You hold onto that card for now... until the time calls for it,” he said with a cold smile that sent shivers down my spine. He motioned at the photos scattered across the table. “Were these the only ones you found?”
I gawked at him. “How many more are there?”
“Is that an interview question?” he asked in mock surprise. “No, no. Your next task is to shadow me next week, so that means you get to observe only.”
I opened and closed my mouth, wanting to argue, but I decided against it. I’d pushed my luck with him a few times, and I wasn’t about to push more. Especially at the risk he’d change his mind and refuse to let me follow him.
“In the meantime,” he said, grabbing a fistful of my hair, and bending me over onto the table. “Which is your favorite victim of mine?” He leaned forward, pushing against me. “What photo speaks to you?” he asked with a chuckle.
