Page 18 of The Italian Reckoning (A New York Criminal Empire #3)

SARAH

“ N o cops?” It’s the most glaring difference between this crime scene compared to how noisy and chaotic Belle’s was. Climbing off Rocky’s bike, I set his spare helmet down on the back and ruffle my fingers through my hair.

“No cops,” he replies. “We’re doing things my way, remember?”

The early morning sun fights to break through the clouds blanketing the sky, creating an odd chill in the air that clings to my bare arms as we walk into the crumbling remains of an old gas station.

The sharp scents of old oil, rust, and decay tickle my nose as I cross my arms for warmth.

Rocky leads the way with one hand in his pocket but after glancing at me, he shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over my shoulders without a word.

I’m too stunned at how good he looks with a white T-shirt stretching over barely-concealed muscles to protest and quickly slide my arms into the sleeves before the warmth can fade.

“Did your contact tell you anything else?” I ask, hurrying to catch back up with him.

“No. I’d reached out to a few people to keep an eye out. People die all the time in this city so I have to keep the criteria pretty tight. Young, female. Showing signs of captivity, etc. All the same as Belle. This is the first bite that’s been decent enough to follow up on.”

“Have there been many others?”

“Hundreds,” Rocky sighs. “But most lack the signs of restraint like on Belle.”

“And you know what those look like because…”

Rocky glances over his shoulder. “You need me to spell it out for you?”

“No,” I sigh softly. Rocky probably knows everything I know about Belle, which highlights so much more wrong with my precinct, but at this point, I can barely keep up. “Do the others know you’re bringing a cop with you?”

Rocky flashes a friendly smile as he holds open a rickety door to the back of the gas station. “They do.”

The last thing I want is to walk in on people who will clam up the moment they see me, but to my surprise when I walk under Rocky’s arm, his contact is someone I actually know.

“Evelyn? Evelyn Morris?” Her black hair is scooped up into a messy bun on top of her head and she stands next to her partner, Cormac Gifford.

Rubbing at her eye, she flashes me a small smile. “It’s Evelyn Gifford now.” Lifting one hand, she wiggles her fingers and the bright light from several lamps brought into the room reflects off the dazzling jewels attached to her ring.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” While her smile is easy, there’s stress clinging to her eyes and redness around her face as if she’s been crying. Cormac stands tall at her side with his hand in hers and he greets us with a gruff snort.

“Sarah.”

“Cormac.” Behind him lies a blue plastic sheet covering what is undoubtedly the body.

“Rocky.” Cormac does give Rocky a tight smile. “Good of you to come.”

“Hardly. You’re the ones helping me out,” Rocky replies. “Thanks for this.”

“Don’t thank us yet.” Cormac cups Evelyn’s head and presses a swift kiss to her forehead, then he steps away toward the plastic. Tears shine suddenly in Evelyn’s eyes and she clears her throat.

“When did you find her?” Rocky asks, motioning me forward.

“A few hours ago,” Cormac replies. “We don’t always come this far east, but we have a conflict with one of the local gangs. They’ve been testing their strength. You know how these kids are.”

Rocky replies with an agreeable noise.

“Anyway.” Cormac sighs deeply and removes the plastic. “One of them stumbled upon this and thought we dumped it here to frame them. I can assure you that’s not our style.”

The girl looks almost exactly like Belle, with the same deep bruising around her wrists and ankles and the picture-perfect makeup painted on to her face. She lies on her back with her arms spread out to the sides, a bit more posed than Belle was.

“How did she die?” Rocky asks the question lingering in my mind.

“Asphyxiation,” Cormac replies.

“How do you know?” Three pairs of eyes lock on to me. “I mean, without a coroner, how can you know that?”

Cormac snorts. “You think all coroners work for the cops?”

Dumb question. Got it.

“She’s one of ours,” Evelyn says suddenly, dabbing at her eyes and clearing her throat. “She’s one of my girls. Kara.”

“Part of your scheme?” My heart skips a beat.

Not long after Cormac tidied up the conflict with his family, Evelyn bought up several motels and buildings with the intent of turning them into safe havens for lost and abused people.

I turn a blind eye to any calls that come from people reporting those motels because I know she’s trying to help damaged people after everything she went through, and most of them are just kids.

Just like this new victim.

“Yes,” Evelyn replies. “She came to us not long ago. She’s only nineteen. She was running away, trying to escape her abusive father, but it looks like he finally caught up with her.”

“I’ve got people looking for him.” Cormac sends a comforting glance to Evelyn. “He won’t be hidden for long.”

Could the kid's father have done this? It’s possible, but the similarities eerily echo Belle’s death. I have to be sure. “Did you find anything near the body?”

“Like what?” Cormac locks eyes with me.

“Anything, really. But specifically, any Saran Wrap?”

A frown passes over Cormac and Evelyn’s faces, then they both shake their heads. “No. Is that important?”

“If it’s linked to the other death, then yes, it’s really important.”

We split off from one another and begin searching the building from top to bottom.

It’s difficult for me to ignore my instincts to call the police and get a real team out here, but I have to hold up my end of the bargain for Rocky.

After all, this could be the break I need.

I search the surrounding rubble, over broken desks and discarded shelves, but come up with nothing until Rocky lets out a bark of surprise.

“I think I’ve found something!”

I reach him just in time to stop him from picking the plastic up from where it’s been carefully placed behind the old cash register. “Don’t! Don’t touch it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s important, you have no idea.

” Just like with Belle, a perfect replica of the girl's makeup is pressed onto the Saran Wrap and is very likely what killed her. And it’s exactly like The Painter.

An unexpected surge of hope rises inside my chest as I grip Rocky’s arm.

This is it. They can’t deny my claims now.

The Painter is back, or there’s a copycat. Either way, we definitely have a serial killer on our hands.

“We need to call the cops.” I look earnestly at Rocky. “Forget everything else. We need them here now!”

“Sarah?” Evelyn walks through from the back of the gas station, pulling all attention to her. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

“Huh?” My brow tightens. “What do you mean?”

Sarah holds up a pristine white napkin with a few words and a phone number scrawled across it in red lipstick.

Sarah, call me .