Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I unfold the paper and stare at the handwriting.
It’s very neat. That strikes me as odd. Whoever put this down wasn’t rushed or worried. The words are perfectly formed. I can appreciate that.
The past is never dead. Senesi.
It’s cryptic bullshit, so far as I can tell.
Except for that last word…
It triggers something. All sorts of alarms ring in my head. I glance at the bedroom door and a cold realization washes over me.
This can’t be happening.
There’s just no way.
I know that name. It’s a name my father has spoken of many times. It’s an old story, a name long buried in the past.
It’s a scary story and a primordial terror. It’s a name to scare little children at night.
It’s a name intimately tangled with Casey’s parents.
“We have to go.” I shove the note back in my pocket and get Casey to her feet.
“Right now? What about the police?”
“We don’t want to be here when they show up. I’ll make sure you do all the right things, but we have to leave.”
I don’t want to tell her that if Senesi did this, then our lives are very much in danger by staying.
She’s wooden and stiff as I move her to the door. I can tell she doesn’t want to leave her friend. It’s got to be hard, but that corpse isn’t my concern anymore.
Casey’s safety is my only priority.
“We can’t just leave her like that,” she whispers.
“It’s evidence now. Trust me, this is the right thing to do.” I steer her out into the hallway. “You’re coming home with me.”
She doesn’t even argue. It’s like that’s the most obvious thing in the world. She’s dead silent on the drive to my apartment and stumbles up into my apartment like she’s sleepwalking through a nightmare.
I get her sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a cashmere blanket, looking catatonic before I finally make a call.
“Is everything okay? You left in a hurry.” Mom sounds tired. I hear the grandkids in the background.
“Do me a favor. Grab Seamus and tell him to call Detective Murphy for me. There’s a dead girl at an apartment. I’ll send you the address.”
“Work stuff?” Mom sounds confused. “But why are you calling me?”
“Because I found a note on the girl’s body. And it was signed with the name Senesi.”
Mom doesn’t respond right away, but I hear her breathing double.
“That can’t be right.” She’s whispering now. The noise of the kids fades into the distance like she’s going into a different room. “Vincenzo Senesi’s been dead for years.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Unless there’s some other Senesi—”
“Who’s this dead girl?”
“Natalie Malinowski. Casey’s best friend.”
Mom lets out a long breath. “That’s not good.”
“If he’s really back, we’ve got a serious problem.”
“All right. Okay. I’ll talk to Seamus and get him moving on the body. Are you sure Casey’s clean in all this?”
“She’s safe and with me. She wasn’t anywhere near the crime scene last night.”
“Good. That’s good.” Mom curses softly. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her use foul language before. It makes me profoundly worried. “I’ll have to talk to your father.”
“I called you for a reason.”
“I know that, Declan, but he was around last time. He’ll know who to talk to.”
“Leave him out of it.”
“If the Butcher of Milan is really back, we’re going to need your father’s help. Keep an eye on Casey for now. We’ll talk again soon.”
The line cuts off. I shove my phone back into my pocket. Casey’s right where I left her, still staring off into space. I can only guess at what she’s feeling.
But an ugly prediction fills my body like a black, rotten light.
This is only the beginning.
Chapter 8
Casey
Natalie’s dead. And it’s my fault.
I don’t know how. I’m aware on some level that I’m probably just torturing myself for no reason. But I can’t shake this feeling.
My best friend was stabbed in the chest, and somehow, I’m to blame.
It’s just survivor’s guilt or something like it. But I keep coming back to that over and over. Natalie’s dead. It’s my fault. She’s gone, and I’m the reason. Over and over, my head a storm of ugly, bitter sadness, the kind of mourning that feels like it’s tearing me to pieces.
She was such a good person. Loud, outgoing, the center of every room, the magnet that brought every group together. Natalie kept me sane for years. She’s been my cheerleader, my sounding board, my best friend and my everything.
I wanted to be half as bright as she was.
Now she’s gone and I don’t know what to do. I can’t move or think right. I want to call her and talk to her so badly it’s like a hand around my throat.
She didn’t deserve this.
Declan brings me tea. He sits with me and makes me drink it. We don’t talk, and I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to. Instead, his presence is enough. It doesn’t take the pain away, but it grounds me at least. I manage to get the tea down and the warmth brings some life back to me. I lie curled up in the blanket, my head in Declan’s lap as he lightly strokes my back and hair, and I don’t even know why I’m comfortable doing this. A little over a day ago, I wasn’t even allowed to use his first name.