Page 9 of Nine Lives

“Lunch. It’s lunchtime.”

“You know that list?”

“The one I got yesterday in the mail?”

“Yeah. One of the names on it was Frank Hopkins.”

“I remember.”

“A Frank Hopkins was murdered this morning in Kennewick, Maine.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Come back to the office, soon as you can.”

“I will. I’m on my way.”

She thought about bagging up the remainder of her lunch but decided against it. She paid up and left.

Back at the office Aaron intercepted her halfway between reception and her cubicle. She thought he looked pretty ragged and wondered how long he’d stayed at the Club Room last night.

“What’s the story?” she asked.

“I sent the list to analysis, and apparently someone there had actually read about the murder of a Frank Hopkins today in Kennewick, Maine. I mean, they would’ve caught it, anyway, but still.”

“What happened to him?”

“To the analyst?”

“No, to Frank Hopkins. In Maine. How’re you doing this morning, Aaron?”

“Sorry, I hung out a little too long with Anthony last night.”

“No worries. How’d this guy die in Maine?”

“He’d been taking a walk on the beach near where he lived. He was forcibly drowned, his head held in a tide pool or something.”

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know. No one. I know you saw his name on a list yesterday and said you didn’t recognize it, but have you given those names any more thought? Do you have any connection with this man?”

“Nope.”

“So here’s the thing—”

“It’s a pretty fucking common name.”

“Frank Hopkins?”

“Yeah, I mean...”

“So here’s the thing. There was an envelope at the scene of the crime, addressed to Frank.”

“He had the list?”

“Exact same list. The one with your name on it.”

“Shit,” Jessica said.