Page 73 of Kiss of Deceit

Dani nodded, understanding on her face. “I didn’t know who was coming in tonight.”

“We need to worry about the hint the asshole left,” I spoke up, eyeing Nolan as he got the needle and thread ready. “He’s playing a fucking game with us.”

“Hint?” Harry repeated.

“The papers with the name Danielle on them.”

Harry rubbed his beard as he pondered that. “There isn’t anyone in this town with that name.”

My eyes drifted to Dani. “I think they’re coming after you.”

Her demeanor didn’t change. “Why?”

“Danielle…” I paused. “Isn’t Dani a nickname?”

“No. It’s my legal name.” My skepticism must have been sprawled across my face because she continued. “You remember the night we met? When I thought you broke into my house? Fiona looked up my information. She knows what my full name is. Ask her if you don’t believe me.”

“I never said I didn’t believe you,” I murmured. Usually, she was locked down when it came to her emotions. Her rambling in defensiveness was out of character for her.

“I bagged the folding knife,” Nolan spoke up, looking over his shoulder at Harry. “Miles did well keeping it in place until I was able to take it out. I made sure to wear gloves. You might get prints off it.”

“The guy was wearing gloves,” I muttered. “And we don’t have a fancy system to search up prints anyway. It’ll take forever.”

“My prints will be on it.”

Dani’s words had my eyes snapping back to her. “What?”

Her jaw ticked. “It’s my knife. I bought two of them when I moved here. They were in my purse earlier tonight, but when I got to the station, they were gone.”

Harry frowned. “You think the killer stole your knives? Why? He already has the ones from the butcher shop.”

“I don’t know,” she replied, crossing her arms. “But I’m just letting you know that you’ll find my prints.”

Harry rubbed his temples. “When will this fucking end? It’s wrecking my town.”

“Soon. It needs to end soon.” Dani’s voice had an edge of revenge I’d never heard from her before. She cleared her throat, her next words softer. “People are dying. We need to do whatever we can to catch the killer.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

dani

“Come on,”I mumbled, drumming my nails on the smooth wood. The computer screen was as dim as I could make it, but my eyes were still burning. Probably because I’d been staring at it for the last three hours. Or it could be from the five hours of sleep I’d gotten in the last four days. The web page was still loading after ten minutes, and I had a feeling it wasn’t going to give me any information just like everything else I looked up.

I rolled my neck before glancing over my shoulder. Darkness met my eyes, and I ignored the stab of unease. I hated having my back to an open space. But since I couldn’t exactly move Kole’s entire desk, I was going to have to deal with it. I was upstairs, near my bedroom door where the desk was pushed against the wall. I shifted on the cushioned chair, my body stiff from sitting here for so long.

The website finally loaded, and I let out a defeated sigh. There was nothing new that wasn’t on the other six websites I’d already searched. My eyes drifted over the title of the article.

Winterlake.Approximate population: 500

Every town was knownfor something. Or had a story worthy enough to be in the papers at least once in its history. Except Winterlake. Before moving here, I’d done a quick search without realizing that what I read then was literally the only information available on the internet. There were no motels for visitors. No menu or website for the café or diner. Or Kole’s bar. If I wasn’t living here, it would be impossible to know what was here. No one in their right mind would ever want to visit.

A chill ran down my spine.Maybe that was the point.

Maybe there was a reason the town was practically invisible in this world.

I’d been hoping to find something that could help catch the killer. Harry didn’t even have a census of the town. How was I supposed to find suspects when I had absolutely nothing to fucking go on? I couldn’t stalk or question hundreds of people until I found someone who it could possibly be.

Resting my elbows on the desk, I rubbed my eyes, sucking in a long breath. Exhaustion swept through me, seeping into my bones. I was obsessing—something I was well aware of. But this was better than nothing. The person who killed Natalie knew my birth name. The name I’d buried and burned after my attack. No one here should know that. I’d legally changed my first, middle, and last name to ensure I was never connected to my past.