Page 20 of Dead O’Clock

Ronan sighed. He knew when he’d been beat. He turned to Everly. “How much do you know?”

“All of it. I want to see the picture of the client from yesterday. I could see it through Dad, but not as clearly as with the real image.”

Ronan pulled out his phone and showed the picture to Everly. She studied it for several seconds. “I don’t know him.” Her eyes slid shut. “But you do. All three of you know him,” she muttered. “Something to do with the prison where you met Uncle Jude. The man was there.”

“As a prisoner or someone who works with them?” Ronan asked. Everly had already narrowed down the suspect list by knowing he was somehow affiliated with the prison.

Everly shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Do you know if I’m on the killer’s list?” Asking the question of his daughter felt like daggers to his heart. A child had no business knowing there were criminals who were out for Ronan’s blood, but he knew his daughter’s gift might be the thing that saved him.

“Yes, but not yet.” Everly paused. “There’s someone else. Busy office. Piles of papers on his desk. His name is Mark. Marvin. Michael. Miller. Damn, I can’t read the sign on his door.”

“Focus on the office. What do you see?” Ronan asked.

“Books, lots of books. They all look the same. Lots of files. Too many files. He can’t work them all. He hates his job and thinks he should have gone to Florida where all the girls have big boobs and money. Lots of money.” Everly’s eyes popped open. “He’s not gonna believe you or want your help, Daddy.”

“You said the books look all the same. What do you mean? Are they the same size? The same book?” Ronan had an idea that he knew exactly what the books were and why this man had so many files on his desk. The books were part of a legal library and that many files and no time to work them meant only one thing; a public defender.

“They’re brownish yellow, with a red stripe at the top and a blue stripe in the middle. There are dates in the blue line. Acts and something of Massachusetts 2010.”

“Acts and Resolves of Massachusetts?” Ronan asked. He’d been right on the money.

“Yes,” Everly opened her eyes. “Do you know what that means?”

“They’re books of laws. A new volume is printed every year covering changes made to state law or with new statutes being added. What you were seeing was a law office. A public defender, I think.”

“That really narrows down the field,” Ten took a seat beside Everly. “We need to figure out if it’s in Salem or Boston.”

“Salem,” Everly said. “I could see the Friendship out the window behind his desk.”

Ronan snorted. “Guess that field trip last year paid off, even if half the kids in your class got seasick.” The Friendship was a replica of a three-masted ship that had been in service at the end of the Revolutionary War. Ten and Ronan had been two of the chaperones on the trip. Ronan had stayed at one end of the ship with the kids who weren’t tossing their cookies, while Ten and some of the mothers stayed with the sick kids.

“Did I help, Daddy?” Everly asked.

“You sure did, honey” Ronan leaned over and hugged Everly. “One last thing though, you said this guy doesn’t want our help?”

“Yeah, he’s a real piece of work. He won’t believe you even when you show him the articles in the paper. Time is money. He owes sharks money from horses.” Everly shrugged. “I didn’t know sharks had wallets. I don’t know where the horses come in. Maybe they’re seahorses?”

Ronan nibbled his bottom lip as to whether or not to tell his eight-year-old about loan sharks and betting on horse races.

“Okay, here’s your breakfast.” Ten set a plate of pancakes in front of each of the girls.

“Pancakes!” Ezra shouted, before pounding down the stairs.

“Thank you for your help, Everly,” Ronan said. “Thank you too, Aurora, for being a great best friend.”

Their mouths stuffed full of pancakes, both girls nodded.

After Ten gave Ezra a plate of food, he pulled Ronan over toward the sliding glass door. “Do you think Everly gave us enough information to find this guy?”

“I do. How many Mark, Marvin, Michael, Millers could there be in the Salem Public Defender’s Office?”

“Good point. She said you’re on the list, Ronan. What the hell are we going to do?” Ten looked more worried than Ronan had ever seen him.

“We’ve got at least thirty hours until the mail comes tomorrow. We need to use that time to warn the lawyer and find the killer before our doorbell is the next one he’ll ring.”

Thirty hours wasn’t a lot of time. Ronan was going to use every single second of it to protect his family and hopefully save his own life in the process.