Page 187 of Things We Left Behind

She was acting as though it was just some practical joke played in poor taste. Clearly her ability to take dangerous situations seriously had not improved since she was a teenager.

Bad things happened. Good people got hurt. She knew thisfirst-­fucking-­hand. Yet I seemed to be the only one taking this seriously.

Nash sighed as he shrugged out of his coat. “I won’t waste my breath giving you the usual ‘police business’ speech since you never listen, and if some asshole was threatening Lina, I wouldn’t be in the mood to mind my own business either.”

I ignored the comparison. Sloane and I were fucking. That was the entire extent of our relationship. “Tell me what you’ve done so far.”

Nash shoved a mug under the coffee maker and stabbed irritably at the buttons. “They were feeder rats. You buy them frozen at pet shops to feed to snakes. So far no leads on where they were purchased. Bannerjee will be knocking on doors in the neighborhood today to see if anyone saw anything suspicious. You want coffee?” he asked, looking me up and down.

I had enough adrenaline in my system. I didn’t need a hit of caffeine. “I want answers.”

The corner of my friend’s mouth lifted.

“If you feel like doing something, talk Sloane into one of those video doorbells. Maybe a couple of those cameras. It’ll deter anyone from trying something like this again.”

“She’s getting an entire security system, and I’m not about to waste time discussing it with her. What else do you have?”

Amusement flared in his eyes as he took his time settling in behind his desk.

“The way it looks, there’s two theories. One, our little librarian pissed off someone who feels like letting her know about it. First the note, now this. They’re warnings. Vague ones. It’s not exactly like someone forced her into the trunk of a car or took a shot at her.”

I knew Nash well enough to understand he wasn’t insinuating that there was no actual threat. He knew better than any of us what kinds of darkness could fester beneath the surface.

“And your other theory?” I asked.

Nash leveled me with a cool gaze. “You two start spendingtime together, and suddenly someone has a problem with Sloane. Could be a coincidence. Could be related.”

It was the same conclusion I’d drawn around the 5:00 a.m. mark.

“You make enemies faster than friends. Somebody could have been paying attention and seen you two together. An ex-­lover, an old business partner, a crime boss you’re going head-­to-­head with. And judging from your expression, you’ve already thought of that.”

It was possible that I’d gotten careless and put Sloane in Anthony Hugo’s sights.

I sat perfectly still, ignoring my mind screaming that I needed to get up and take action. At one time, I’d gone still to remain invisible. Now I did it because stillness reveals nothing to enemies.

I’d underestimated Hugo. While I’d been playing games with his tracking device and tails, I’d played right into the man’s hands, serving up the perfect incentive for him to use against me.

“You’re doing that stone-­faced thing,” Nash observed.

“What stone-­faced thing?” I snapped.

“The thing where you look like you’re constipated and really pissed off about it. You go all stone-­faced when you’re having feelings you don’t want to have.”

“I’m not having feelings,” I insisted a little too loudly.

He put down his coffee mug. “Look, man. For what it’s worth, I don’t see Anthony Hugo driving up here and dumping a bunch of rat corpses on Sloane’s doorstep. He doesn’t go for subtle.”

“We both know he’s got an army of criminals eager to do his bidding.”

“We don’t know that Hugo has anything to do with this. It could have just as easily been Marjorie Ronsanto, who gives the library shit on a weekly basis. Or some idiot hormonal teenager who didn’t want to pay his late fees.”

“Or it could be Anthony Fucking Hugo. I’d expect you of all people to take this seriously.”

No one seemed to be properly upset about this. When I’d gotten out of bed, Sloane had rolled over, buried her face in my pillow, and asked me to bring her back a doughnut. Now Nash was placating me like I was an overly concerned citizen.

“Look, Luce, I get it. You care and you’re worried. We’ll keep her safe. Between you, me, and the rest of the department, no one’s gonna get near her.”

I shook my head. “I’m going back to the city,” I decided.