There’s barely any furniture, just a long ass conference table, a podium, and another small desk. There are, however, lots of fun gadgets and weapons, as well as an entire wall of video monitors linked to all of Little John’s businesses, and several huge maps of the county, state, and country pinned up on the walls where there’s space.
Back in the day, when Mac and his brother opened the bar, they had this room installed for super secret club meetings and interrogations, for all the things that could get messy and draw attention, and now… well, it’s still used for the same shit. The only differences are the added security and sound proofing. And Little John had the hidden doorwall in his office redone so the entrance is even harder to locate if you find yourself sitting in there for some terrifying reason.
“What is this shit?” Little John tosses a stack of newspapers on the table as I plop down into the seat at the end.
The Harvester of Bonesstrikes twice!
Double Homicide: Is The Ghost changing his game?
A Break from His MO, Has Rolling’s own vigilante gone rogue?!
“That’s exactly what it is,”I grunt as I snatch the paper on top and start leafing through it until I get to the article. “It’s complete bullshit.”
John sighs. “Figured as much.”
“You shouldn’t have questioned it.”
“Really?”
My eyes lift to meet his before they roll. “I gave you the photos—that included the bedroom and a still-alive girl, by the way. I did exactly what you wanted and got justice for your niece.This garbage”—I toss the newspaper in his direction with a huff—“is amateur at best.”
Little John frowns.
“It screams inexperience. Too much rage, too messy. Maybe not his first kill, but it’s the first one like this, and I’d put money on it being such a shitshow because his plan was ruined.”
“How do you figure?”
I lean back in the chair and kick my feet up on the table as I light my smoke. “His obvious target was the woman. My guess is as good as any, but it feels sexually driven, and since she was picked up at a bar by arapist, our little rookie got angry.”
“Explain.”
“Iam,”I drawl. “He had probably been watching her for a while, settled on her as his plaything for the night. Then she leaves, albeit unwillingly, with Brucey, and he loses his shit. At this point, he’s even more out for blood than before, follows that shitty Chevy to the motel and either loses them, which would account for the time between my visit and his, or he saw me go in and waited.”
He nods. “Concerned about that?”
“Not even a little. I know you haven’t seen me in action in a long time, but my methods are fine-tuned, and if thisserial killer in trainingdecided to go to the cops, he’d sound like an idiot for multiple reasons.”
He’d sound like a raving lunatic, to be honest.
I dress in an all black hazmat suit and completely cover my face when I work so I’d love to hear this piece of shit tell the police all about the six-foot-four alien that cock-blocked him from his own murderous agenda.
“You see anything?”
Another roll of my eyes. “No. When I left, Brucey was in a heap on the floor and his companion was alive and well.”
John frowns.
“Ok, maybe notwell, but she was alive and breathing. And that room was as clean as a whistle.”
Little John smirks. “I have no doubt.”
Asshole.
I can’t help that I’m a neat freak, and killing people is no exception.
“So, if this wasn’t you…”
“I have some very unorganized, and most likely escalating, competition.”
