Chapter 7
600 Words
Chapter Seven
My head was spinning. Had I fallen asleep or been knocked unconscious, left to fend for myself in some sort of bizarro alternate reality? Or, better yet, perhaps I was being punk’d? I was sure Ramirez thought I had lost my marbles as I swiveled my head from side to side, searching for the hidden cameras. Finding none, I took a deep breath and opted to stare at the worn tread on my tennis shoes while I mulled things over.
“Are you ok, AJ?” Ramirez asked, concern filling his voice.
After a moment, I looked up at him and nodded absently. “In the last twenty minutes, I’ve found out”—I held my fingers up as I counted—“that one: the girl brutally murdered a few hundred feet away from where we are standing was not only my sister but my dead twin sister; two: I was adopted, and three: according to this dead twin sister, my parent’s deaths were not the result of an unfortunate cosmic accident, but of some evil force out there killing adoptive parents.” I laughed, perhaps a bit too harshly. “Seriously? This has all the makings of a bad Lifetime movie. Now that you’ve shared, what is it you expect me to do with all this information, Detective?”
Ramirez nodded in understanding. He had entered her world, basically dumped all over it and then offered nothing in return but confusion and drama. She had every right to question him. He owed her. It was time to come clean.
“Shortly after Victoria’s body was identified, the local FBI swooped in, debriefed us, rounded up all pertinent files and told us they would take it from there. So officially, we’re off the case.” I started to say something, but he held up his hand. “To make matters worse, every single time those guys take over one of our cases, it conveniently gets filed into their black hole of bureaucracy. In the meantime, any leads there might have been will go cold.
Unfortunately, this also means Victoria Winestone will end up a statistic—another nameless victim whose justice will never come—and that does not sit right with me. Not one bit.” Ramirez became quiet for a moment, his eyes haunted, before turning to face me.
“I took a huge risk coming here and telling you all of this, but I had a gut feeling about you—one that told me you would want to know more and the opportunity to do more.”
I shook my head in disbelief and nearly laughed at the absurdity of that comment.
“What is it you think I can do, Detective? I am nobody. A photographer with a dog who has bad manners and even worse breath. None of that qualifies me for the starring role as Nancy Drew.”
Ramirez chuckled. “Dog-related behavioral and hygiene issues aside, you’ve got a lot more going for you than you think. Plus, you’ve got two PIs at your disposal.”
At my furrowed brow, he quickly added, “Don’t worry. They don’t have your name yet—and I won’t pass it along until you agree—but they’re more than ready to get back to work on this. I’ll admit, while they aren’t saints, they are decent, hard-working guys—guys who don’t like it when their client gets herself killed on their watch. They want to make this right, AJ, and I fully believe you can trust them to do it.”
“But what if your bosses or the FBI find out? Surely they’ll realize the information about Victoria’s identity was leaked from somewhere?”
“I will deal with it as it comes.”
He provided me with the PIs particulars, scratching Nicoh behind the ears before turning to leave. As he pulled the door behind him, he looked at me, his gaze intense.
“AJ?”
“Yeah?”
“Watch your back. My gut also tells me this is far from over.”
“Is your gut ever wrong, Detective?”
“Good or bad, there’s a first time for everything.”
- Writer
