Page 30 of Dark Wishes
“What about who?” She tilts her head with her brow in a knot.
I’m not touching the keyboard anymore, but if I was, I wouldn’t feel it; my limbs have gone numb. “Sanford Grecko?”
Her stare goes from curious, to confused. “I’ve never heard that name. You must be mixing him up with someone else.”
Ice crystallizes in my veins until I'm sure my skin will burst open. I try to focus on the laptop screen, but my vision is blurry. What does she mean? He killed Sanford, I saw it up close.
Maybe he was given the contract months ago, and she just forgot the name?
But no. No way it would take a killer like Jamison months to hunt down Sanford.
He wasn’t trying to hide, he was an easy target.
I can’t make sense of this.
Not even a little.
“How is it going?” Iris prods. “Find what you were after?”
In a daze, I force myself to look at the website in front of me. Sparks Entertainment employs a simple design—white background, stark green letters, and a stripe of photos along the top. The grinning women are heavily filtered to have glossy skin with pearly straight teeth. Not a single blemish. They’re more digital than human.
There’s a link to submit for auditions, I click it and say, “Mmhm. Going great.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Jamison says behind me. He shuts the door and walks to hover over my shoulder. His presence hangs above me like a massive oak tree, his strong limbs and steady energy blanketing me. He gives me a quick smile, as if to reassure me his meeting with Tusk went well.
But I don’t care. Not even slightly.
Why did he kill Sanford?
No...
Why was he at that hotel at all?
“How bad did Tusk ream you out?” Iris asks him.
“No blood was shed.”
“Cryptic,” she chuckles.
With my head down, I don’t see her face, but I watchhisin the smudged reflection of the glass of water Iris left beside her computer. There are no features, hardly any detail; Jamison is a blob of shadow smeared with an array of colors. This is easier than facing him.
His warped reflection wavers. “Show me what you found.”
“Here,” I say, pointing at the screen. His presence grows when he leans close to my shoulder to read the website.
Jamison inhales a half-breath, then lets it go. “I have an idea, but we’re going to need more help than I thought.”
“Help from who?” Iris asks defensively, “I already let you use my laptop.”
I jump to my feet, nearly bumping into Jamison. “Right, sorry,” I mumble. “Thanks for that.” Jamison reaches out to steady me—I skip sideways out of reach, spotting the buckle in his smile.
Why was he THERE?
He drops his hands to his sides and puts his neutral mask back on. “You’ve done plenty, Iris. Thanks. We’ll be going now.”
Feeling her eyes on me, I lift my chin to meet her stare. I’m as even as a seesaw but I force a smile. “See you later.”
“I hope you get him.”
