Page 107 of A New Days Don

“Ants…They’re all over m’ skin.”

“Do you want a shower? Might help.” I offer, though I know the feeling of her skin crawling is more mental than something that can be cleaned.

She nods her head, “Where’s Jazzy?”

“I’m not sure, but I will find her.” I tell her, offering my hand, “I’m Mila, what’s your name?”

“Daisy… That’s Jazzy’s name fer me.”

“Nice to meet you, Daisy.” The girl extends her hand and places it in mine. Her knobby knuckles are a sickly pale.

I stand and help her up, slowly guiding her back to my car.

“Jazzy says not to get into any cars.”

“It’s okay, you can trust me. Jazzy is my friend too. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

“What the hell is a street whore doing in the department showers?!” Vicek snarls as he storms into the meeting room, which I am currently using to review the bits and pieces of what little we have on the sex workers' files and my own.

If the person involved in this is working with or is part of the department in some way, they are cocky. They think they won’t get caught and can continue committing these crimes, getting off on the rush of seeing their crimes go untraceable. A power play. A demonstration that they are more capable than the scum killers that came before him.

After the display in Dr. Alverez’s house, I am almost certain that he’s trying to cover up his tracks, which means he has left clues everywhere. Sure, these files are pitiful, but together they make up plenty of evidence.

“Mr. Vicek, this is the twenty-first century. It is incredibly unprofessional and misogynistic.” My words are laced with poison, each one throwing Richard Vicek off. Good.

Until I know who is doing this, everyone in the station is my enemy.

Vicek blinks a couple times before patting down his white button-up dress shirt that sits tightly against the stomach he has slowly been gaining over the last few months, “Right, my apologies. But you know that this area is for authorized personnel only.”

“I am keeping an eye on the door. When she pops out, I will escort her to the rehab centre.” I respond, the electric energy sizzling in my veins, still ready to pounce if he tries to act out again.

Vicek nods, stepping back toward the door, but he never turns his scrutinizing gaze from me, “Since when do you take in strays?”

“Since when do you keep tabs on what I do outside of work?” I retort.

“Since you bring your hobbies into restricted areas.” He grits, and it’s when he steps out of the room that I note the bags under his eyes, “Watch it, Mila. This is a quick way to get yourself fired.”

The door shuts, and I glare at it while muttering, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

Pushing the files I have strewn about into one pile, I slip them into my messenger bag before exiting the room. Daisy pops her head out of the locker room, her wide, exhausted eyes sweeping lazily across the bullpen. When her brown eyes meet mine, I wave her over.

“Are you ready?” I ask, and she nods, pulling on the sleeve of the extra, long-sleeve V-neck I had in my locker.

“Yes, ma’am,” Daisy nods, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to call me ma’am. Mila is fine.” I smile gently, taking her hand in mine and guiding her out of the station, “How does your skin feel?”

“Still weird, but better.” We walk out the back towards the Jaguar. Unlike what Daisy looked, smelled, and, most likely, felt going into the showers, she looks like a new girl, err… Well, as new as you can be while still going through withdrawal.

“I’m going to take you to a rehab,” I tell her, and she stiffens beside me before shaking her head frantically.

“N-No. No rehab. No!” She stammers while stumbling from me. Her wet hair sticks to her cheeks. “Expensive.”

“No, Daisy, listen, you won’t have to pay a cent. It’s on me. Go, get healthy with people who can give you a structured routine, and I will be here when you’re out.” Looking over my shoulder, Gerardo and Alverez's hazel eyes stare back at me from the door, watching the interaction.

What…

No. He’s dead.