Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
No… he wasn’t surprised. That was fear that I sensed. It rose off him like a putrid wave, reflected in his dilated pupils and the visible pounding of his pulse against his neck.
“Oh my God,” Emma said, lifting a shaking hand to her mouth.
“I don’t even really drink iced coffee… you’re sure it’s mine?”
I pulled out my phone and brought up the photo, showing both the mayor and Byron so there wouldn’t be any doubt in what we said.
Jason leaned forward, his hands on the table, and he asked, “If you don’t typically drink ice coffee, then do you remember when the last time you had it was?”
He chewed the inside of his cheek and fidgeted in his seat. He looked to his mom, almost as if needing reassurance. Byron was in his early twenties, but he sometimes acted younger than that, this being one of those times. The mayor rubbed her son’s back and kissed the side of his head.
“Derrick, my brother, he wanted some coffee the other day, so we stopped inside a café, and that’s where he bought me the iced coffee. I think I actually left my cup in his car because I couldn’t finish it. It was too sweet. He said he’d drink it.”
Emma sat up straight, her head cocked. “Your brother? He’s here?” The mayor sounded astonished. “He never called… He’s in Blue Creek? Here?”
I’d been wrong again. Byron wasn’t looking to his mother for reassurance, he had been gauging her, weighing what her reaction would be to the news of Derrick being in town.
Byron nodded like a broken bobblehead. “He’s having a difficult time, Mom. With everything that happened. He just wanted to keep to himself, at least until he moved past it all… and I don’t blame him. It hasn’t been easy for me either.”
“What happened?” Jason asked. Byron took a breath and appeared to be collecting himself. Heavy footsteps came from directly above us, causing Byron to restart his story.
“There was an accident,” he said, voice cracking. “A year and three months ago, now. He and I were getting things ready for a party we were throwing, celebrating the news that his wife was pregnant. They’d been trying for years. We realized we were low on beer, so Jenny and my fiancé, Mauricio, left together to go grab some. It was supposed to be quick—the market was only a few streets away. They never made it back.”
“Oh, Byron, sweetie.” His mom rubbed his back again as Byron looked out the small window above the sink. Rain started to dot the glass.
“It was a car accident,” he continued. “We actually heard it from my apartment. Sounded like an explosion, that’s how bad it was. Neither of them had a chance.” His gaze drifted back, his lids hanging heavy over the sadness that still radiated from him. “I immediately subleased my apartment and moved in here, needing people around me to fight off the dark thoughts. Derrick couldn’t stay here after that happened. He left, moving somewhere down south. He never really stayed in one place, though. Always said the ghosts caught up to him. He’s thinking that by coming back, maybe he can get rid of those ghosts.”
The story was a sad one, no denying that, but it wasn’t the sadness I focused on. “Can we have your brother’s contact information? Maybe he can tell us how that coffee cup got in there. He could possibly know the Pegasus as an acquaintance, without actually knowing he’s rubbing elbows with a serial killer. It could explain—”
Those heavy footsteps grew louder, closer, cutting me off. We all looked toward the stairs as Byron’s dad stomped down each step. “What’s going on here?”
His question was directed at us, but his gaze was pinned on his wife.
“It’s okay, Rob. This is Jason Quill and Matthew Hale, a detective with the FBI. They’re here to ask Byron questions. They found a connection between—” She choked up. “I can’t even say it.”
Rob didn’t look happy in the slightest, his face turning a not-so-pleasant shade of crimson.
“Get out, go.” He puffed his chest and pointed to the door, his eyes drilling a hole through my forehead. “Go!”
“Rob, stop.” The mayor was on her feet, and Byron dropped his head on the table, his arms making a protective cave around himself. “They’re here to help.”
“Get the fuck out. If you want to talk to my son, then you talk to his lawyer first.”
That almost made my eyeballs jump out of their sockets and roll across the floor. Now he was lawyering up? What the hell?
“Sir, we really just want to help.” Jason was on his feet, too, matching Rob’s energy with a silent intensity of his own. I stood shoulder to shoulder with him.
“This is my home, and you two are trespassing. Get out, or I will deal with the trespassing appropriately.”