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The dead crow.
The pictures.
He’s sticky with sweat, and curses for even closing his eyes. How could he be so stupid after knowing someone was inside the apartment? They could’ve followed him to the hotel and broken in there too. Whoever this person is that’s tormenting him, why haven’t they killed him yet? What are they waiting for? Because at this rate, death seems more peaceful than all the harrowing questions.
Perhaps they don’t want to kill him, he considers. They want him to suffer, to wonder what’s next, to second-guess himself and throw him off his game. The biggest rally of his campaign is coming up and he’s not even close to being prepared for his speech. He has to figure out who’s behind this so he can end it.
Dominic supposes that, in itself, is torture—knowing someone has something over you that you can’t snatch away and bury. Knowing this person is anonymous makes it more of a threat. It could be anyone. He’s wronged so many people in the past for his own personal gain. He never thought he’d become this sort of person, but he has, and he can’t go back now.
His eyes shift to the table in the corner where the bloody purse is. He’s almost positive the blood on it is Brynn’s and he shudders, unsure what to do with it. He could take it somewhere and burn it. He could toss it in a random dumpster and forget about it. But for some reason it seems safest to keep it with him. Keep it close and deal with it later once the stalker is put to rest.
A vibrating noise sounds off behind him, and he realizes this is why he woke up. His phone was ringing. He snatches it up and answers.
“Boaz? What do you have?” Dominic climbs out of bed, heading to the mini fridge and retrieving a bottled water.
“Found an ID on that woman in the picture you sent. She goes by the name Shavonne Peters, attended Loyola University, and was an intern for a kids’ summer camp in 2015. That’s the last thing I really have on her up until 2020, where she takes a job in North Carolina as a waitress in a diner called Pop’s.”
All of the words Boaz says swim away from Dominic but two. Loyola University. “Wait. She attended Loyola?”
“That’s right.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirty-eight.”
Dominic’s eyes bulge out of his head. “She’s the same age as Brynn. She went to the same college. She must know her.”
“Could be a friend wanting answers,” Boaz states.
“But how would she know I was involved?” Dominic snaps. “Why would she be asking me anything?”
“Well, if the woman you had at the rental never went back home that night, this friend probably had questions, asked around the lounge about her. They must’ve been close. It’s possible the woman you had over told her friend who she was going to see.”
Dominic’s back hits the wall and his body sags to the floor. “No, no, no. Boaz, this can’t be happening. This woman can’t be sniffing around right now. Everyone knows if you search for answers, you’ll find them. Tell me that body can’t be found, Boaz,” he pleads.
“I went to New Orleans, poked around. No one has said anything about a body and no missing person reports were filed with her name. As far as you and I are concerned, she’s gone. She was hardly breathing, and I buried her near a marsh. There was no surviving that.”
“What about her belongings? Her purse? The phone?”
“Buried it with her. No one will find it.”
“So how the hell was that same purse inside my apartment last night, Boaz? There’s blood and dirt all over it. Someone is fucking with me, and I bet it’s that friend of hers!”
“Calm down,” Boaz snaps. “Anyone can buy a bag, get dirt, and make fake blood. If it is this woman, you need to put a pin in this straightaway and burn the evidence. Do you want me to handle it?”
“No.” He thought Boaz had it handled years ago but clearly, he didn’t. Now, he’s certain that was Brynn standing across the street from Executive Mansion, staring back at him. What if she’s not dead? Boaz said he drove for miles with her body in the trunk until he ventured to a forest near a marsh, dug a hole, and dumped her. He said the place was often infested with gators, and that even if she did miraculously wake up and dig her way out, she wouldn’t survive it, not with her wounds.
Now, Dominic is having a hard time accepting any of what Boaz told him. There is a possibility Boaz is in on this, that he wants to see Dominic fail. Maybe he was pissed that he’d been dragged into it, so he set Brynn free and told her to never speak a word of it, paid her off or something, but she’s thought about it all and now she’s back. He could have lied about it just to save face. Sure, it was a risk on his part and, no, Boaz didn’t like loose ends, but people change. And if there was one thing Dominic knew about Brynn, it’s that she was smart as hell. She’d conquered many odds with quick thinking and this could’ve been one of those situations. Say she woke up, saw what Boaz was about to do as he dumped dirt onto her body, and begged to be freed. Would he have let her go?
“Just give me the night to think,” Dominic finally says when Boaz clears his throat. “I’ll let you know what to do when I figure out more.”
He hangs up, then chucks his phone across the room.
There is no one he can trust.
He has to take care of it himself.
THIRTY-ONE
