Chapters (59)
- COVER
- About the Author
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- Acknowledgments
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
A chair sat facing his desk, its seat cushion slashed, murky yellow foam spilling out. I took a seat and pulled Dusty into my lap, then handed McKnight the phone. He stared at it for what must have been ten full seconds, his eyes blank as a freshly cleaned whiteboard, then handed it back to me.
I adjusted in the chair. ‘So?’
He shrugged. ‘So what?’
‘So obviously someone knows something. Maybe you should be looking for the person who sent this, who knows you’re chasing after the wrong person.’
A gulp of coffee. ‘Shoot it over to me. I’ll pass it on to forensics.’
‘That’s it?’ I asked.
‘Pardon me if I’m not jumping up and down, Miss King, but we see things of this sort all the time. Email addresses can be created in an instant. Those can be used to send texts. Anyone with your phone number could have done it. Or anyone who found a way to look up your number, which isn’t that hard, either. You could have created it, for all I know, and sent that to yourself.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ he said. ‘Just like I’m sure a person as smart as yourself sees people falling in the rain when they haven’t.’
I pressed my lips into a thin, tight line, but he only shrugged. ‘Look, it’s just a text, like all the texts and emails of this nature you’d find on any tip line. It’s an active investigation. People like to find a way to get involved. Like I said, send it to me, and I’ll shoot it over to my guys.’
I pushed the chair back, its legs screeching against the floor, and Dusty hopped off my lap. ‘Thanks for doing your job.’
‘Oh, and Miss King?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Funny thing. We couldn’t find a record of you having ever lived in Brooklyn at all. Most recent address we found is closer to here, down in Poughkeepsie.’
My chest felt suddenly raw. Sensing my sudden change in demeanor, Dusty’s tail went limp.
‘Care to explain?’
I swallowed, buying myself time, then concentrated on keeping my mind clear, my voice still, as I said what I knew I had to say, should it ever come up: ‘You ever lived in Brooklyn?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Excuse me?’