Page 163 of Brutal

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And I’m the one who made it that way.

42

DELANEY

I don’t go back to him.

Not right away.

I feel him behind me as I leave the room. The weight of his attention. The pull of it.

I ignore it.

I have to.

Because if I turn back I won’t be thinking clearly. And right now, thinking clearly is the only thing I have.

I walk into the main room and stop. The place is so quiet.

Like nothing happened here.

Like we didn’t just?—

I cut the thought off.

I wish I had my notes. My folders. But I do have my phone, and all the information on my laptop and iPad is on my cell as well.

I go upstairs, take a quick shower—not in Samson’s bedroom but in the guest room—and find a soft robe to pull on over my underwear.

Then I grab my phone.

Crap, it’s nearly dead. I scour the guest suite, looking for a charger. Yes! I find one in the nightstand drawer. I plug it in, connect my phone, and then sit on the lush bed as I pull up the information I have.

Halstead.

I keep my feelings neutral as I read the name. That’s how it has to stay.

I look through the information I have. God, I know most of it by heart now. And I don’t see anything that?—

I stop at a photo attached to a report. I don’t remember putting it there, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve been moving fast. Collecting and sorting. Not everything stays where I left it.

I zoom in.

It’s the marina at night, grainy and distorted, clearly pulled from a security capture.

It shows the dock. The water. And two figures. They’re not close to the edge. Not yet. No sign of anyone else yet.

I stare at it longer than I should.

Because something about it?—

No.

I shift my focus.

The closer figure could be Halstead. His position matches what Samson said.

The second figure is harder to make out.

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