What happens to her happens to me. That’s how it’s going to be, from today until the last breaths leave our bodies.
The cop coming our way wastes no time. “Mr. Gaspard. Ms. Maison.”
“Detective Cavender.” I give him a nod as I say his name, but he just stands there, staring at both of us for almost a minute. “You got something to say to us, or can we go see what the fuck happened to my woman’s condo?”
“It’s a crime scene,” he says. “Techs are on their way. You’re not allowed inside until they’ve finished their job.”
He’s being rude and it pisses me off, considering we’re talking about Magnolia’s former home being violated.
“It’s my damn condo. I want to see what the hell happened to it,” Magnolia says, ready to pick a fight with the cop.
Instead of letting us inside, the detective pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times before holding it up in front of us. “You know who would do this to your condo?”
A tremor rips through Magnolia’s entire body, and I have to lock down the fury bursting into my system at the sight of the picture.
On the wall, written in smears of red, it reads:
I’m coming for you next
Jesus fucking Christ.
I hold Magnolia closer, rubbing up and down her arm because goose bumps just rose beneath my hand.
“Oh my God,” she whispers with another tremor racking her body. “Carl said it didn’t look like spray paint.” She looks up at me, and we lock eyes. “That doesn’t look like spray paint to me either.”
“It’s not, Ms. Maison. It’s blood.”
“Hey, man.” I pitch my voice low as I take a step toward Cavender. “You wanna take some goddamned care with your words when you’re delivering news like that? Because I got no fucking problem going to your superior to tell him what a fucking dick you’re being with a victim of a fucked-up crime.”
Something flashes across the cop’s face, and it looks a hell of a lot like embarrassment. He steps back, puts his hands on his hips and shifts on his feet, staring at the floor. “Sorry. I could’ve delivered that better.”
Magnolia straightens her shoulders under my arm. “Thank you. I accept your apology. Because whatever you think of me and the life I’ve lived, I’ve never had someone write anything on any wall of mine in fucking blood.” Her eyes are the size of the Rolls’ rims and full of raw fear. Her voice wobbles as she adds, “I don’t know who the fuck would do something like this. I literally can’t think of anyone.”
Cavender clears his throat. “You don’t have any idea what it means? Or why someone might be coming for you next?”
Magnolia shakes her head. “I don’t know who the fuck they got first, so I sure as shit don’t know what being next means.”
The detective shoves his phone and hands into his pockets and rocks back on the heels of his cheap shoes. “You don’t think it has anything to do with the murder committed in your building?”
“I have absolutely no idea, Detective. That’s really more your area of expertise.”
I give her another squeeze to communicate that she’s doing a great fucking job with the cop.
“In order for me to do my job,” Cavender says, “I’m going to need some information from you. Starting with a list of possible enemies. Old colleagues. Old companions. Anyone you can think of who may want to hurt you physically, financially, or otherwise.”
Magnolia laughs sardonically. “I’m sure you’d love that list, but honestly, I don’t know a single person who would be on it that would pull some shit like this. They wouldn’t dare.”
Mount, I think. Everyone knows Magnolia is under Mount’s protection. She’s right. No one who knew that would chance making a move against her.
The cop latches onto her statement. “What do you mean—they wouldn’t dare? Because they know you’d retaliate? Or is there another reason?”
Magnolia stares him down. “Look, Cavender. I have no idea why the fuck it happened. I don’t have anything I can give you that would be a good lead, but I’m gonna think really fucking hard about it. If I come up with anyone who might’ve been inclined to do something like this . . . I’ll let you know.”
That’s my girl. A boss in her own right.
“You heard her, Detective. She doesn’t know anything. Now, if you won’t let us inside, then there’s really no reason for us to be here right now. Let the building manager know when the techs are done so we can arrange cleanup. We’ll be in touch if we think of anything that could be relevant to your investigation.”
I spin us, as a unit, away from Cavender, but he stops me with his next question.
“Ms. Maison. I couldn’t help but notice your place was almost totally cleaned out. Manager says you’re selling it soon. Where are you headed if that house in the Quarter isn’t yours?”
Magnolia turns her head just enough to look at the detective. “None of your goddamned business, Detective. If you’ve got something to report on this crime, you can get my number from Carl or call Moses’s attorney. I’ll be waiting for answers from you about who the fuck did this . . . to me.”
Forty-Four
Magnolia
As Moses and I walk out of my former condo building, I’m grateful for the strength he offers. He’s not holding me up, but he is helping me hold it together.
Before this morning, I thought I’d seen it all. Because, goddamn, I’ve been through some fucked-up shit. I’ve been raped. I’ve been shot and left for dead in the worst way imaginable. I’ve even been in a fucking coma.
I’m a fighter.
But seeing those words—I’m coming for you next—written in blood on my fucking wall? Well, it sent a chill down my spine. I know evil when I see it, because I’ve seen plenty.
Now it’s looking for me.
I think of the card Celeste dealt me the first day I knew Moses was back in town. The Devil.
It’s not supposed to be literal. It’s supposed to be symbolic. But leave it to me to have someone literally coming to drag me into hell.
Maybe it’s because I’m no innocent. I’ve done so many things I regret. Fuck, I killed a man in the damn elevator only three days ago. Sure, that was self-defense, but can God forgive all that? I’d like to think so, but he and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms in a long while.
“You okay?” Moses asks as we leave the building I never want to return to. There’s nothing left for me here.
I suck in a long, deep breath of fresh air, trying to get the picture Cavender shoved in my face out of my head.
My first instinct is to say, Yes, I’m fine. Takes a lot more than that to rattle me. But I find his sympathetic green eyes and admit the truth. “I don’t know what I am right now, but that’s some fucked-up shit.”
Moses’s expression softens as he stops on the sidewalk to cup my cheek. “You didn’t need to see it. And whatever you do, you do not need to be thinking about it for longer than it takes for us to get in the car, but you probably will.”