Page 92 of Vengeance & Sin

Our murderer comes in through a window at the back of the building. It’s a ground-floor window, so that’s not telling. Anyone could climb through one of those. The camera isn’t positioned well, so I can’t tell if they broke the lock or if it was open, but it’s a minor detail.

They move quickly and quietly down the hallway and straight to the holding cell. Whoever this person is, they knew exactly where they were going. Either because they did their research or because someone told them, again, it doesn't really matter. They’re dressed in dark, loose-fitting clothes, which makes pinning down their size a lot harder. Their face and head are also covered, and they are careful to keep their head down from the camera's view.

Yeah, this isn’t just someone off the street who was mad about their daughter being picked up or someone worried their name would be ruined for purchasing girls. This person knows exactly what they are doing and how to do it. This was a hit.

The most notable information so far comes when the assailant gets to the cell. They bend down to pick the lock, something they do with ease, but before doing so, they stand outside the cell door. I make a mental note of where they fall in relevance to the frame so that I can get their height.

Corey is asleep on the cot when they enter. They grab his hair and pull him easily onto the ground. He wakes up disoriented for a moment before I can see recognition shine in his eyes as he looks up at the face of our unknown killer. Whoever they are, he knew them.

Words are exchanged, and I mentally curse the station for being so far in the stone age that none of their cameras have audio capabilities. I decide to focus instead on their body language. It only takes a moment before they lunge for him, and I watch as they easily cut into the meaty part of his arm. There's the first cut, just like Kratos thought, and judging by our assailant's quick and sure movements, he was also correct about it being shallow on purpose.

The pathetic piece of shit is crying as he holds his arm, trying to stop the blood as he no doubt begs for his life. They always beg, no matter how undeserving they are. He’s slowly scooting back toward the wall, but our unknown doesn't let him get far. Every few moments he makes, they take a step toward him to keep the distance small, effectively caging him in. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Corey if his constantly shifting eyes are anything to go by.

Whatever he’s said must have made them angry. They give a shake of their head before they once again lunge toward him with their knife in his face, less than an inch from his left eye.

I pause and try to get a good look at the knife. Some people use weapons like calling cards. Like Zander, his love for one particular knife could probably get us in a lot of trouble if someone ever got their hands on it, but we won’t let that happen. I zoom and look at the size. It looks like a standard hunting knife, and there are no markings visible, nothing that makes it stand out from any other knife off the shelf of any store.

I press play again, and they must be talking for the next few minutes. Corey doesn’t move, not that he can without risking his eye, but the color continues to drain from his face, and his tears never stop. Pathetic.

They strike again, having said their piece and apparently having nothing left to keep him alive for.

The blood from the second cut comes out much faster than the first. They stand and watch him bleed out before they wipe the blood from the knife on their pants. A boot to the chest lets them know he’s at the very least out cold, if not already dead, and that seems to be enough for them to leave.

Before they leave, they bend slightly at the waist and stash their knife again. Finally, they turn around and stalk back out the way they came, going so far as to close the cell door behind them. The only trace of them being there is the dead man left behind.

I watch the videos repeatedly, but other than the possibility of getting their height, it seems like this was a waste.

Fuck!

I drag all the files to the bin and prepare to scrub the drive, but right before doing so, I stop.

I pull up the last video and watch it three more times before I understand the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. When they tucked the knife away, it wasn’t put into a holster like the one Zan keeps on him. Instead, they appear to tuck it into a leg holster or maybe even a tall boot.

The idea of it being a tall boot instantly brings Jade to mind. The night of the party, she wore high combat boots that Rick later told me were a gift from Zander.

I know it’s not concrete evidence, hell, it's hardly anything at all, but something inside of me screams that this is right. It might not be enough to get the guys on my side, but it’s more than I was able to find in her past, and I need something.

I delete the rest of the files but save that one on one of my secure flash drives before pulling the drive and wiping my computer for any leftover traces of the files.

I look at the clock, it's just after four, and I weigh my options. I could take a nap before the meeting or try and dig into Jade some more.

I shut my laptop, grabbing it and my mug, before heading back upstairs. As much as I want answers about her, I think sleep is more important right now. After all, I might need to be awake to look around later tonight.

* * *

My phone alarm chirps,and I have to resist the urge to chuck the damn thing across the room. Instead, I grab it and shut it up before checking the time. It’s just after seven, and if I get up now, I can shower and grab something to eat before we have to head out.

I’m still dragging ass when I finally make it to the kitchen, where Rick is already waiting.

“You look like shit.” He tells me, and I grunt in response because I know that, but I don’t need to hear it.

I grab out some of the leftovers from the last time Elizabeth came to cook for us and pop the container open to find spaghetti.

I don’t remember having spaghetti this week. Either I missed that meal, or this is old.

“It’s from two nights ago when you were hauled up in the library, it’s probably still good, but Kratos said he ordered food so we can eat there. Just grab something to get you there.” Rick tells me after he watches me side-eye the pasta for a minute, trying to debate what to do.

I close the container and toss it back in the fridge, grabbing an apple from the basket on the counter and biting into it before I nod to the door to let him know I’m ready to head out.

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