Page 50 of Crawl
“An open window—even a boarded one—isn’t going to keep a killer out, Detective. You know that.”
He nods to himself, thinking over my words, and I take the chance to study him. He may be a year or two older than Remedy, in his late twenties, but still young, especially for a detective. Perhaps it’s easier to get a title like that in a small town where nothing happens.
Honestly, he should thank me for giving him something to do. It must make him feel important.
“You’ll find the criminal soon,” I say. “It’s too small of an island for the culprit to run wild forever.”
“That’s the idea.”
I straighten in my seat, then spread my arms across the back of the table, claiming my space. “So what can I help you with, Detective?”
“I came to ask you about the murders, actually.” He ruffles his hair, then pulls out a notepad. “Mind if I take notes?”
“Not at all.”
He brings out a small rectangular device. “Is recording okay too?”
He’s not going to catch me in a trap with a recording device. “Go for it.”
He clicks the button, and once the red light flashes on the screen, he nods at me. “So you’re aware of the circumstances of the murders?”
I nod. “How many is it now?”
“Five that we know of,” he says. Darkness spreads across his face. “We’re not sure of how long this has been happening. We think there may be other Key West murders connected to this killer from past years. Montana and Northern Nevada too.”
“Shit.” I rub my forehead, feigning distress. “Who does something like that?”
“Who knows? But this asshole needs to end up in jail.”
I stare off into space, playing my part. But he’s so sure of himself, it’shilarious.
“What happens now?” I ask.
“You’re aware that a few of these murders have occurred on or near your properties?”
“You’ll have to be more specific, Detective. I own a lot of property in Key West.”
“I agree. It’s hardly a coincidence. But perhaps you’ve heard something? A suspicious worker? A passerby? Anything you might remember?”
This is my chance to frame Remedy as my suspicious personal assistant. She tried to steal my hard drives and tried to kill me multiple times. But as I lock eyes with the detective, I can’t say her name. I imagine ripping the detective’s head from his body. He’s not a practical option for Remedy without a head.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“You have access to all the general contractors and subcontractors that work on your projects. Even the renters. All the staff. You even have access to LPA.”
LPA is Lavish Personal Assistants, the agency which directly employs Remedy. But it seems strange. Out of all the businesses he can mention, why is he bringing up LPA?
“You’re as much of a suspect as, say, your personal assistant is a suspect,” he says. There’s a gleam in his eye like he sees something there.
My blood pressure rises, my chest constricting. We both know it has nothing to do with Remedy. So why is he bringing her up?
He’s baiting me. He knows about our relationship. He knowssomething.
I thought he was her childhood friend. But he’s outing her like this?
I glance at the stairs. Remedy is in one of the extra bedrooms, working on her laptop with her earbuds on. It’s easy; I shift the blame to her, then walk away. The detective won’t blink an eye.
Instead, I do the unthinkable.
