Page 38

So why would the tattoo freak him out so much?

An idea sprouts inside my chest, delicate and careful. I ignore it because if it’s true, then it makes everything worse. If it’s true then maybe he should have killed me after all.

I focus on taking a shower first. The sting of my wound from the scalding water is sharp but fleeting, nothing deep enough for a bandage. I scrub my body from top to bottom, desperate to wash away a reminder of last night—Rowan’s hands on me, his eyes zeroed in on my body. I convince myself that the soap will do the trick and by the time I exit, I’m red all over.

After towelling off, I grab my phone and shoot a message to Kane, apologising and promising I’ll be in soon and that I owe him a lifetime supply of coffee. His reply comes almost immediately: a thumbs-up emoji andhell yes, you do.I smile faintly. At least there’s one person who isn’t mad at me.

As the kettle hums to life, I sink into my chair, scrolling through the endless clutter of my inbox. Most of it is the usual junk, but one email stops me cold. It’s fromthataddress and from earlier this morning.

My stomach tightens as I open it.

Detective Kimura,

It looks like you haven’t made much progress on my request, which is a shame. Your sister will be arrested soon, and once that happens, there will be very little I can do for her. The police have solid evidence: fingerprints on a conch shell that may have been used to strike Richard Arnold.

I’m still willing to keep my end of the bargain if you keep yours.

The message is unsigned, as always, but an image is attached. With trembling fingers, I open it to see a conch shell, still perfectly intact, an evidence tag dangling off the side.

I frown. It’s a stretch—more speculation than proof—but Homicide doesn’t need facts to make their case stick. With both Halle’s and Richard Arnold’s DNA on the shell, they’ll spin whatever story they need to make her look guilty. Never mind the fact that a shell should shatter if smashed against someone’s skull. Truth won’t matter. It never does.

The kettle boils, but I barely hear it over the pounding of my heart. The room tilts slightly, and I grip the table to steady myself. My eyes stay glued to the email, reading it over and over, as though something might change.

Without thinking, I start typing:

The person you’re looking for is a member of The Snake.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself. The world narrows on the screen as I wait for a reply, my foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the floor. Two minutes crawl by before a response arrives.

I need a name, Detective. Time’s running out for your sister.

My hands shake as I set the phone down, staring at the screen until the letters blur.

Time’s running out.

For Halle. For me. For everything.

I need to solve this.Now.

It’s nearly two in the afternoon when I make it to the OCU. The open plan area is bustling with activity today, voices clamouring over each other. I spot Anders standing at Kane’s desk and I slow down my steps, trying not to look like I’m in a rush. I don’t need her knowing I was late today.

She says something to him as I approach and, like she feels me, she looks up and smiles, that warm maternal smile she reserves for the people she likes.

“Oh, Kimura,” she says. “I was just checking in on your cases. Is everything going okay?”

Behind her, Kane gives me a thumbs up and I nod quickly. “Uh, yeah. Everything is going swimmingly, Chief.”

“Swimmingly,” she repeats. “I like that word.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

She smiles, brown eyes reassuring. She’s clearly tough, but there are moments where she reminds me of the woman who would feed Halle and I when our foster parents forgot to. Sometimes, she would come back to work with sour gummies in her pocket. Those were the only sweets I ever got to have, and now, I have what Halle calls an ‘unhealthy obsession’ with them. Cherry was always the best flavour.

“Keep up the good work, Kimura,” she says before spinning on her heel to make her way down the hall.

My eyes land on Kane and he grins. “Swimmingly, huh?”

I groan, flopping down into my chair. It creaks under me.