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Chapter Ten

DETECTIVE PAIGE WALKER

I throw my phone on my desk and sink into my chair. Steven Calloway is the third victim to die of twenty-two stab wounds in this city.

“Why twenty-two?” I turn to my partner, Elijah. “I mean…I know the repeated number has some personal significance, but what?”

His shoulder raises. “It could be anything.”

“We know the victims have one thing in common: they were cheating on their wives and in the middle of a divorce, which the wives initiated because of their husband’s infidelity. Attorneys in the same law firm represent the women, but the women have air-tight alibis.”

“All three cases are connected,” Elijah says. “We’re dealing with a serial killer—a killer who knows about these women and their cheating husbands. None of the women share the same circle of friends, but someone knows their business.”

“You mean the people who work at Reynolds, Burns & Nelson?”

“That’s exactly who I mean.” He picks up his coffee mug and tips it to his lips. “I think someone at that law firm has it out for men who cheat.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” I say. “Let’s go talk to Arti and see what he found.” I grab my phone and stand up.

We went to the morgue and pushed open the double steel doors.

“Detective Walker. Detective Matthews. I was just going to call you.”

“Hey, Arti. What did you find?” I stare at Mr. Calloway’s dead body lying on the cold steel table.

“As suspected, traces of M99 were found in his system like the others before he was stabbed to death. Injected right here.” He points to the side of Mr. Calloway’s neck. “It’s really a form of torture because the drug immobilizes the victim, and they can’t move but are entirely aware of their surroundings. The killer ensures the right amount is given based on body size. Because Mr. Calloway here is a larger man than the other two victims, he received a larger dose.”

“So, are we talking about a doctor? A med student?” I ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe a veterinarian,” Arti says. “I know you can buy the stuff on the black market. So, technically, it could be anyone.”

“Thanks, Arti.” Elijah smiles.

“Yeah. Thanks, Arti.”

We leave the morgue and step outside.

“Let’s check and see if the three victims maybe saw the same doctor and if there’s any connection between the wives and doctors,” I say. “Also, we need to find out where M99 can be bought on the black market.”

“I have an informant who might know,” Elijah says. “I’ll go check with him now.”

“Okay. I’m going back to Calloway’s office.”

I ease into my car, the leather seats hugging my body as I press the button, and the ignition starts. My fingers drum against the steering wheel to the beat of my anxious thoughts as I steer toward 137 West 25 th Street. As I arrive and take the elevator up to the eleventh floor, a sense of foreboding settles in my stomach. When I reach Mr. Calloway’s office, it is sealed off with bright yellow tape, like a warning sign. I lift the tape and walk under it. The forensic team is still here, combing for evidence.

“Find anything, Ben?” I ask.

“Nothing, Paige. This crime scene is just as clean as the others. We do know that he was murdered while sitting in his chair.”

“Arti, the medical examiner, says that M99 was found in his system via injection to the neck like the others.”

Ben looks around and points. “That closet over there.”

“What about it?”

“If the victim was sitting in his chair with his back turned, someone could have been hiding in that closet, snuck up from behind, and injected him.”

“So it had to be someone who knew he was working late last night,” I say.

“Did you interrogate the mistress?” Ben asks.

“Elijah did, but I’m heading over to her place now. Thanks, Ben.”

“Anytime, Paige.”

“By the way,” I turn and look at him, “don’t mention anything about the M99. We’re keeping it out of the press for now.”

“My lips are sealed.”