Page 57 of Forgotten Deeds

“Officer Harrison was found dead in his home last night.”

“Oh my God,” I say, my legs feeling wobbly as I grab onto the porch railing.

“You didn’t know?” he questions.

“No,” I say, placing a hand over my heart. “How did he die?”

“Gunshot wound.”

“Suicide?” I gasp.

“No. A homicide,” he answers gruffly, but doesn’t elaborate. “I’m just trying to piece together his last days. When was the last time you exchanged texts?”

“Harrison was supposed to have a visit with Iris last weekend. He was a no-show at the park—our exchange point. I texted him a couple of times wondering where he was. He never responded.”

“And you didn’t think that odd?” he asks, the question dripping with judgment.

“No,” I say defensively. “The man flakes on his daughter all the time. That’s just Harrison.”

“And you were angry about it?” he says, putting words in my mouth.

“What? No. I mean, sure, I was annoyed, but mostly feeling bad for my daughter. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Where have you been these past forty-eight hours?” His eyes land on my diamond ring.

“You come here, spring the news on me my child’s father is dead, and now you’re what? Accusing me? It’s beyond ridiculous, and I’m done with this conversation,” I say, clasping my hands together so he won’t notice them shaking.

“I can just as easily take you downtown to finish answering my questions,” he threatens.

Squaring my chin, I say, “You can’t. Not unless you’re arresting me.” I learned at least that much from Harrison. “Am I under arrest, detective?” I challenge.

He doesn’t answer.

“Then that’s a no. Please remove yourself from my property.”

“If that’s how you want to play it,” he says in a threatening tone. “I’ll be in touch, Ms. Grant.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Darius

It pains me to leave Lily and Iris at their old house by themselves, but when I get a lead on John Davis, I have to follow it.

Turning on a true crime podcast—Nonna got me hooked on them—I roll my eyes. Forgetting the knife at the crime scene; the motherfucker deserved to be caught.

On the road for around two hours, I arrive in AC. I’m not holding my breath John Davis will still be here, but that’s assuming it was really him sighted to begin with.

I do a slow drive-by of Ace’s Wild Boxing Club before parking the next street over. Grabbing my file, I look over the man’s photo one more time. Know thine enemy. The fact that I don’t know this one—that no one does—makes me uneasy.

I was able to pull a better image of John Davis from The Diamond’s pool security feed, and I now owe Kat another favor. The guy was dumb enough to approach Romeo’s girl at the rooftop pool—a fatal mistake on John’s part, and I’m sure a nearly a fatal mistake on her bodyguard’s part.

In the photo, John’s wearing a hat and sunglasses—not exactly helpful—but the edge of a red tattoo peeks out from beneath the left sleeve of his T-shirt. He’d better not have a big red dog tattoo like mine, or I’ll turn the guy over to Sammy; fucker prides himself on skinning men alive.

I exit my car and sling my backpack over my shoulder, strolling to the alley beside the gym. Watching the front door, I bide my time.

Finally the door opens, and I inwardly curse. Sneaking up behind the woman who just left, I place a hand over her mouth and drag her to the alley. “What the fuck, Darius!” Kat smacks me with her gym bag when I release her. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl.

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