Page 141 of Say My Name

“Yeah. Maybe Brandon is just a sick bastard.”

“He’d have to be.” I sigh. “I just feel like I let everyone down. I’ll probably lose my job as a detective once they find out I’m pregnant by the man I was supposed to be investigating.”

I stare at the picture of Luna’s crime scene. Her living room filled with cozy furnishings. The sunny yellow rug on the floor. A thriving potted plant living its best life next to a sizeable window. Such a pretty set up for an ugly crime scene.

“Do you really think they’ll demote you?”

“They could fire me. I don’t really know. All I know is I don’t want to go back to the beat with Guy as my partner.”

She laughs. “Yeah, he’s a real creep.”

“His gum smacking drives me crazy.” I stare at Luna’s body. Face down.

Face down.

Ass up?

A chill runs down my spine. I think back to the conversation with Luna at work. How her ex only liked her face down, ass up. I can almost hear her saying the words, “My ex liked me face down. Ass up. Smack. Smack.”

At the time, I thought she was talking about him spanking her.Smack. Smack.Other conversations race through my mind. Devereaux talking about an ex boyfriend ruining things at Club Greed. Greer saying it was someone they grew up with.

The conversation with Devereaux at the little cafe, how he had gotten into a fight with someone who was now a cop.

“Oh, my god.”

“What is it?” Ashley asks. “Chloe?” she prods when I don’t answer.

“Ash, I’ve got to go.”

Brandon’s not the killer.

And I know who is.

I need to warn Devereaux.

I snatch the picture off the dry erase board and race to the front door. When I swing it open, I’m standing face to face with deep, dark eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

I try to push past him, but he’s twice my size. And then, he’s got a cloth over my mouth, and I hold my breath so I don’t inhale the fumes.

But it’s no use.

Everything goes dark.

Chapter 42

Devereaux

Something is wrong. When I pull up to Chloe’s house, her front door is wide open. That’s all it takes for me to break into a run and rush up the porch.

“Chloe,” I call into her house.

There’s no answer.

“Chloe,” I shout, crossing over the threshold. “Are you here?” I step on something and glance down.

It’s a picture of a crime scene. Luna’s dead body on the floor. Tension coils my shoulders as I move further into Chloe’s living room. She has a board with pictures of the entire case on it, and I stare at the gruesome image in my hands, wondering why it was by the front door.

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