Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Reo nodded. "You knew he was guilty."
"I knew. But knowing and proving are different things. The police had no bodies." I looked at Kenji. "So, I pressed where it hurt. I told him people said his mother was disappointed in him when she was alive. That she thought he was weak."
Kenji's eyes narrowed. "You provoked him."
"Yes. His eyes twitched, just a fraction. He said, 'My mother was a saint.' So I asked if she'd be proud of what he did." I could still see his face through that glass barrier. "He stared at me and said, 'I didn't do anything, but if I did. . .she would be proud because she's with them now.’”
Reo tapped his finger against his wrist. “The garden.”
“That's what he said. 'She's with my special, precious flowers. She's taking care of them. Keeping them safe. She always loved tending her garden. Now she will do it in the afterlife.'"
The words came out mechanical.
I'd memorized every syllable. "I asked what he meant. He leaned closer and smiled—slow, eerie, almost tender—and said, 'She taught me how to return things to the earth. Said everything that dies just wants to go home.’ Then, he went on and on about how the roses were higher than last year."
Reo considered that, “Did he have a garden?”
“He didn’t. He just lived in the apartment above his butcher shop. However, I knew that he had to have a garden somewhere. . .one connected to his mother.”
Reo appeared absolutely fascinated. “Did you try to get the location?”
I shook my head. “I had some ideas already. Plus, I was ready to get out of there.”
“Why?”
"Because. . .he looked at me and said, 'You're just as pretty as any flower I’ve ever seen.’”
Kenji's hand had turned to stone in mine.
“And. . .although I knew I didn’t have red hair like his victims, I was terrified to have his attention.”
The temperature in the helicopter dropped ten degrees.
Rage covered Kenji’s face. "You left."
“Immediately. I turned off my recorder and went straight to the sheriff outside the door. My hands had been shaking so badly.” I swallowed. "Two hours later, they found the bodies behind his mother's farmhouse. Buried beneath the hydrangeas and circled around the biggest rosebush in her old garden. Six women. Each wrapped in burlap, and laid carefully, like they were tucked in for sleep."
Silence filled the space.
I had no idea what they thought of me from this story. I’d put myself in danger for money and the adrenaline high of an article. . .but I’d helped too.
I let out a long breath. "The Ledger gave me a bonus and tried to hire me fulltime after that, but I wanted to be clean of it all."
Reo studied me with new interest. "You got him to confess without him realizing he was confessing."
Kenji's grip on my hand loosened slightly, but his eyes blazed with something between fury and pride. "You walked into a visiting room with a serial killer. Alone."
"Yeah."
"He threatened to kill you." The Dragon's fire was barely leashed. "To your face. And you just walked out and went to work."
I held his gaze. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"Not put yourself in that position in the first place." His thumb brushed across my knuckles. The touch was gentle despite the rage in his voice. "But you did. You got him to confess by asking the right questions."
"I believe so."
Darkness flashed across his face. "That's exactly what you'll do with my spies."
My stomach tightened at the look in his eyes. "That's my plan."
He leaned closer. "But this time, you're not alone in that room. This time, I'm right outside the door. And if anyone—anyone—threatens my Tiger the way that bastard did. . ."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
The promise in his eyes said everything.
The helicopter tilted as we approached the mansion, and the movement made my stomach lurch.
Or maybe that wasn't the helicopter at all.
For a split second, I smelled it—wet dirt and copper, thick enough to choke on. The memory clawed its way up from where I'd buried it.
I hadn't told them the rest.
How for months after the Ward case, I couldn't sleep through the night.
How every dream began in a garden where the air smelled like death and somewhere in the dark, a woman hummed a lullaby meant for me.
How I'd walk toward the sound and watch the hydrangeas move like they were breathing.
How a pale hand would shoot up through the soil, trembling, grasping. . .
And I'd wake up choking on a scream that never made it out.
Five years later, I still couldn't look at hydrangeas without feeling that hand reaching for me.
It’s okay. You’re with the Dragon now.
I shook off the memory and focused on the mansion below.
This time would be different.
This time, I wasn't hunting alone in the dark.