Page 128 of One Killer Night

I need to see.

Bile rises in my throat because he’s not just dead. His eyes have been gouged out, the sockets left empty with only spiny bits of macerated tissue dried to his skin. And his mouth’s been left opened, his tongue cut out, the half left thick and swollen in the cavity.

I can almost hear him choking on his own blood in my mind. That’s when it all hits me fast as I use the brick wall to help me back the fuck up and away from the car.

“Holy shit,” I breathe out, repeating it a few more times.

“Dude.” Chase is breathless as he turns in circles. “He’s not new dead ... He’s not fucking new dead.” He stabs a finger at the door. “That guy’s cold, Noah.”

My mind is running fast, a thousand warring thoughts pleading to be heard. I glance at both entrances to the alley, then back at the guy.

Chase dry heaves again, then takes his hat off to put it in front of his mouth. “Oh fuck, that’s evidence ... I’m gonna go to prison.”

“Why would Billy kill him?” I say to myself, but Chase is full-on panicking.

“I touched someone old dead ... oh god ...” His hands hit his knees as he breathes hard. “Noah, I’m an LA six, but a prison twelve ...”

I’m only half listening because,Why would Billy kill him ... other than to send me a message.

Goldie. That’s the only reason.

My phone’s already burning a hole in my pocket as I start back toward Chase. “I need to call killer.”

But he isn’t listening, still mumbling about the guy being “old dead” and what’s going to happen to him in prison. I grab him by the jacket and bring his face to mine.

“Get it together. We need to get the fuck out of here and find Goldie. Right now, Chase.”

He lets out a steadying breath. “Yep. Got it.”

I let him go and look around again as he rushes back over to the car.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He’s talking while rubbing his ass all over the door handle of the car. “Listen, this is serious shit. Your fucking dad gutted some dude’s eyeballs ... I don’t even know what you’d use for that ... an ice cream scooper? He’s fucking deranged. We gotta call the cops.”

I shake my head as I pull out my phone because the only thing I’m doing is calling Goldie. “No, we need to get the fuck out of here before someone sees us.”

The call goes straight to voicemail, so I try again. Voicemail.

Chase groans. “Am I the only one who watches crime shows? Our fucking fingerprints are all over this car.”

I look down at my phone, quickly scrolling to Evie’s number. Fuck. Voicemail.

He leans sideways and uses his shoulder to try and rub where my hand was. “They hate you, remember. She probably lied about where Goldie would be too ... That’s what I would do if I wanted you to stay away. Throw you off the scent.”

I run my hands through my hair before trying her mom ... voicemail. Then her dad. The same.

“Fuck,” I grind out, feeling my body going numb. If something happens to her ... I look up at Chase, who’s still wiping the car using his hands from inside the trench coat pockets. “Chase, if Billy did this, then he knows where Goldie is. None of this other shit matters until we find him. But it starts with finding her first.”

Chase stills, his eyes locked with mine. “How the fuck are we supposed to do that?”

My phone dings.

I drop my eyes quickly as he closes the distance between us, and we both stare at the photo populating the text.

Goldie’s standing next to a tree, her fingers touching the bark as she stares directly into the camera.

“Who sent that?” Chase whispers just as the message populates again.