Page 36 of Danger Close

I may have puked in my mouth.

“Will it get you off my property sooner?” she snapped back, flipping me the bird as she walked inside, slamming the door in my face.

“I just want to tell her goodnight!” I called through the door.

“Come back tomorrow,” Charlotte yelled from inside. “Bring her wallet and phone with you.”

I grumbled all the way into the Audi. I sat in the driver’s seat, pinching the bridge of my nose.

If civilian life was this chaotic, I needed to re-contemplate retirement. This shit sucked.

A white pamphlet caught my eye on the black interior mat on the passenger’s side. What the hell had she accused me of writing?

I leaned down to pick it up. It was a normal old take-out menu, folded in thirds, with spaghetti, pizza and other offerings from The Bar. It listed what was on tap, and where they sourced their local brews. But that wasn’t what stood out.

It was the scrawled, black letters that were etched over, and over, and over again into the back. It was like someone wrote it in a manic fit.

It was three simple letters: I. C. U.

What the hell did that mean? Was that the Intensive Care Unit? Like in a hospital? I wasn’t sure.

All I knew was that she had read those letters and been terrified. Why? Why had it triggered her so badly in the middle of everything else that was happening? Why had she focused on this?

Something was rotten in the town of Mourningkill.

I picked up my phone, feeling a hunch that I needed help. That I was in over my head. And I never ignored a hunch.

“Beaufort,” I said, when the phone clicked on, not even giving him a chance to speak. “I need to know everything you can findout about Teresa Guerro, née Archambeau. Do you need me to spell it?”

“Not even ahello,how are you, huh? Getting right to it?” He sounded sleepy, but I plowed on.

I knew I was being a pain in the ass, but I was too impatient to give a shit.

“Archambeau. Do you need me to spell it?”

“Nah, man,” He said with a yawn.

“Find anyone who might be related to her that also goes by the last name Ray, Raymond or whatever other derivative you can find.” Then I thought about it, and wondered if that was right. “Or maybe it’s a first name. I don’t know. How long do you think that’ll take?”

She’d mentioned that name enough times that it wasn’t a coincidence. I knew somewhere bone-deep that whoever this Ray guy was, I’d be killing him with my bare hands. It would be the kill that kicked the squid story off the gossip pedestal.

Ray had harmed her. He wasstillharming her. He deserved to do worse than die with a cephalopod in his mouth, or a spork in the eye.

“You’re gonna hate my answer–”

“Don’t fucking say it…”

“–butit depends. I won’t know until I’m in, brother.” He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the phone. “You know that rushing this kind of work leads to mistakes.”

“Fine,” I said, my foot bouncing on the floor of the car so hard, I was sure the whole vehicle was shaking with me. “Just get me what you can get. Send me a bill, and I’ll pay it.”

“You know what I’m gonna ask, right?” David Beaufort was one of the most sought-after analysts in the world, with a mind as sharp as a computer. He’s the reason AI would never replace humans.

When he was able to amplify his brilliance with technology, he was unstoppable. People paid handsomely for his skills.

When I didn’t answer his rhetorical question, he added, “Why aren’t you asking your brother to help you with this request?”

I groaned, not wanting to get into this with him, but also knowing that Beaufort would figure it out anyway.