Page 65 of Gamble with Me
Another question from the police was interrupted by a hard knock on the front door. I cringed, feeling unusually jumpy after the events of this morning. I hurried to the hall, sensing a presence behind me. Officer Williams followed me, grabbing the knob before I could take it and yanking the door open.
"You should see this," a tall woman, about thirty-five years old with emerald-green hair, said, handing the photo to her colleague. Officer Williams examined it for a second before he showed it to me.
"Do you have any idea what it can mean?" he asked. I looked at the picture, my stomach turning to knots. Into George's shirt, a black dahlia was pinned, which I had overlooked before. It was the same as I’d found on the nightstand after Zefarin left. My heart was seconds from collapsing, and the entire world spun.
Could it be him?
"Mrs. Kellerman? Do you know what this flower means?" the officer asked again, bringing me back to reality. I had to give him something. I knew it because Chester wouldn't pass the opportunity to throw me under the bus.
"Two days ago, I found the same flower in my daughter's room," I admitted, repeating the same story I told my husband. "She slept with her father, so I went to her room to rest after I returned from work. When I woke up, the flower was on the bedside table."
"Do you know who placed it there?"
"No." I shook my head resolutely, holding the officer's stern look.
"Did you have an affair, Mrs. Kellerman?" he inquired directly, making me gasp. "An affair which could result in the dead body hanging before your window?"
"My marriage isn't perfect, Officer Williams," I said in a trembling voice, doing my best to force my body to function normally. I didn't want to gain more attention. "But there isn't another man in my life other than my husband."
"You're saying that the flower is a coincidence?" He raised his brows at me in doubt. Obviously, he didn't believe me.
"It's your job to find out what it is," I replied boldly, staring into his green eyes. A smirk twitched his thin lips, and he nodded.
"You're right, Mrs. Kellerman," he agreed, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "But I need to know everything to eliminate a potential threat to Zyon or his brothers." He winked at me and returned to the living room, leaving me stunned in the hall.
At that very moment, I realized it didn't matter what I said. Zyon had the police in his pocket. If something ever pointed at him, the investigation would be directed elsewhere. I didn't know if he killed George, but Chester's fear was palpable, and his words rang in my ears.
“They know,” he said. But what did they know?
-31-
Valeria
Ibrought Zara to school, acting like nothing serious happened. Yet my girl was too clever and observant. It wasn't hard for her to understand that a crime had occurred in our building, but thankfully, she didn't see anything. She already had trouble sleeping. Seeing George's body would be devastating for her fragile mind.
We spent the ride to her school talking aboutPikachuand the movie she wanted to see. I was grateful for her chirping because it successfully dragged me from musing about the frightening corpse. However, everything went down on me with full force when I changed into my gym clothes and turned on the treadmill.
My feelings and thoughts were swirling. The gym was almost empty in the morning. Only one bodybuilder lifted weights, not paying attention to me. So when the tears fell from my eyes, I didn't bother to wipe them. They ran freely down my cheeks, washing out the dread, fear, and disgust from my body.
It was such a horrifying, atrocious experience to see death from up close. My parents died when I was a teenager. Given the circumstances of their demise, when their car was hit by a train, the police didn't allow me to see them for the last time. Their bodies were destroyed, and I said goodbye only to their coffins and photos.
But this morning, death stared at me from George's lifeless eyes. It watched me through him, marking my soul with his blood. First, Adam Rivers and his family died because of me, and today, the list had gained another name.
For some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling I was responsible for his violent death. Maybe it was because of the flower pinned to his shirt. Or perhaps it was because of his indirect threats to me and Zyon. I didn't know what caused this heavy feeling to gnaw my insides, but it was there. Guilt held me prisoner in its tight embrace, refusing to let go.
Picking up speed on the treadmill, I tried to shake away this morning's events, but it wasn't possible. An image of Geroge's empty eyes and cut-off tongue was imprinted into my brain. It was everywhere I looked. No matter how hard I pushed it away, it was there, floating at the edge of my consciousness.
Nothing helped me to ease the ache in my chest. I thought about my job, family, and boss's upcoming birthday party, but all those things were connected to George. Eventually, I caught myself drowning in paranoid scenarios about my husband being the next one hanging from someone's window.
Chester's words about Malin were another thing that haunted me. He mumbled something about his handwriting. But what did he mean? My husband was scared like a chicken, yet it could only be a reaction to the body behind our window. Maybe it didn't have anything in common with the Zhumagulovs?
Still, Chester's behavior was outrageous. He served me to the police like I was a murderer. I knew him well enough to notice how agitated and scared he was because of their questions. It made me wonder if his meeting with the mysterious man next to the pretzel stall yesterday wasn't part of something bigger. Perhaps Chester's fear wasn't from George's murder. Maybe he was nervous about the police or Zhumagulovs finding out about his plans. I had no idea what he was doing when he was out, but I would bet my last dollar that it was illegal.
An incoming text tore apart the thin thread of my thoughts. I didn't realize I was speeding on the treadmill like a lunatic, pushing myself to my limit. Sweat dripped from my forehead and temples, and my legs burned. I panted, slowing down to walk so I could read the message.
Unknown Number: Your ass looks like a juicy peach in those tight leggings. I'm dying to taste it.
One quick look around told me he wasn't anywhere near because only me and two other ladies were in the spacious room. But there was a camera pointed right at me, and the otherwas behind me. He’d surely hacked them to stalk me. I was getting better at uncovering his tricks.
