Page 8 of Dead Love
“That would be impossible,” Bill mumbled. His shoes squeaked against the tile floor. “Too many possibilities. The county would have done something by now. A recall. A traffic stop.”
I grabbed the handle of one of the cooler doors, pulling out the tray. A long white sheet covered the body, the toes sticking out of the bottom, the tag hanging to the side.Nicolette Larson, 19, Folium City.Not for our town, but for the city that held 52 Peaks. Likely another Echo death.
“Mr. Erickson, I—”
I yanked back the sheet. Sure enough, there was blood soaking her chest.
“How is it that out of all the Echo victims, and I do meanallof them, have the same puncture wound on their chest?” I asked, slamming the door to the refrigerator shut. I snapped around to Bill, then stepped closer. “Right here,” I punched a finger into his chest bone, “as if someone stabbed them,” I knocked my finger into him again and he twitched, “and yet, there’s no mention of this in your reports?”
“Mr. Erickson. Sir, I—”
“Funny, isn’t it?” I said. “You know, maybe if they drove the same cars, drove the same exact streets, and all had the same GPS or some other bullshit instrument attached to their windshields, thenmaybethat would explain how all of them were impaled.” I paused, staring down at Bill. “But that would be impossible. It doesn’t make any sense, does it, Bill?”
Bill swallowed a dry gulp of air. “N-no, sir.”
“Perhaps they were stabbed.”
“M-maybe, sir.”
“And yet your reports mention nothing of that.” I grit my teeth, looking down my nose. “Who are you covering for, Bill?”
“No one, sir.”
While Bill was likely working for someone, my gut instincts told me that he wasn’t directly a part of it. I stepped back. It was better to keep a close eye on Bill, to see who he had contact with, than it was to pursue him as the main perpetrator. Crimes came with consequences, and death came with a price. Once I found the perpetrator, I could figure out how to use that person to my advantage.
“It was all from the crash,” Bill said. “I’m sure I mentioned it. But my reports—”
Sheriff Mike’s familiar brown hair filled the television screen.
“Turn that up,” I said, gesturing at the image. Bill quickly found the remote, eager for the break from his interrogation.
The Echo Crisis won’t terrorize our people any longer,the sheriff’s voice boomed.Our children deserve to grow up in a world that’s safe and nurturing. As your sheriff, I promise I will continue to take care of this county, every step of the way. The Echo Crisis will always be my greatest concern in protecting our people.
A still image of the sheriff with a red and blue label plastered across the screen.Reelect Sheriff Mike!a male voiceover chimed.I’m Mike Nova and I approved this message.
Sheriff Mike’s concern sounded genuine, but he was good at acting. It was probably mostly a front. Everyone was obsessed with Echo; it was fitting that the sheriff would latch onto the latest crisis to help boost his reelection campaign. Did he have the same doubts as I had, or did he truly think that the Echo deaths were a drug problem?
“If you think of anything, let me know,” I said to Bill, then headed out. I mulled over these thoughts as I made my way back to Quiet Meadows Funeral Home. I would have to ask Sheriff Mike about it in person, or perhaps start investigating the crime scenes myself. There was always someone at the other end of the rope, and I intended to figure out who it was.
Catie rushed at me as soon as I came through the entrance. “Shea said she won’t look for the Middlemist Red anymore. She said you either have to come down to the shop to negotiate,oryou have to find it on Mount Punica by yourself.”
“But it isn’t for me,” I said. “It’s for the Cliftons, who specifically asked for the Middlemist Red.”
“I know,” Catie sighed. “I tried. Believe me.”
If the Cliftons had been mourning someone who had lived a long, fulfilling life, I might have been tempted to tell Catie to redirect the family to Shea, so that they could discuss by themselves. But their daughter was barely twenty-one when Echo supposedly took her life, and I knew that this was the last thing they wanted to do.
Besides, it gave me a chance to check on my flower.
I drove the short distance, parking on the side street, then came around to the front of the shop. The same empty lot was next to it, now filled with wildflowers.Be back soon!hung from the door, the shop lifeless, the white bouquets in the coolers like the silhouettes of ghosts peeking out from the darkness.
I walked down the sidewalk, heading for the coffee shop, joining the line waiting to order from the cashier. Punica was a small town, and yet Nectar Latte never seemed to have any breathing room, as it was the only locally owned and operated cafe. A minute later, the door opened, and the latest customers entered.
“It’s not that difficult,” an older woman’s voice rang through the room. I turned and glanced; it was the florist, as I had expected. I had been watching her, her husband, and her daughter for years now, and they were all creatures of habit. “It’s not like he’s proposing you get married right now.”
“You did mention marriage though,” Kora said, her voice tense.
“And a wedding,” another woman said. Her yellow hair was familiar; she had worked in the flower shop these last few years. Officer Andrew stood behind the group, his hands on his hips, literally shielding them. I scoffed; he and I hadn’t been on good terms since my brother’s death.
