Page 92 of When I Accidentally Snagged a Serial Killer

“I’d like to see some ID.”

Instead of taking offense, he lowers his arm and reaches slowly into his back pocket. He opens a leather wallet—J.R. in gold lettering just like my Dad’s was—to reveal a New York driver’s license for Joshua Elias Ricketts, confirming his identity. Then, he slides out a heavy cream business card with embossed lettering.

RICKETTS ADVISORY GROUP

Joshua E. Ricketts – Estate Research & Asset Recovery

I flip it over. It has a phone number, an email, a New York City office address, and nothing to suggest it was printed twelve minutes ago in the back of a van. When I finally accept his hand, his grip is warm and brief.

“You’re far from home. And you’re actually my father’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“Why have I never heard of you?”

His focus drifts past my shoulder, tracking the crowd before it returns. “Jacob and I were estranged for most of our adult lives. It’s part of the long story.”

“Convenient,” I mutter.

A hint of amusement touches the corners of his eyes, and I hate how I can suddenly picture where Dad got some of his charm. The thought twists in my stomach.

Joshua tucks the wallet away. “I didn’t know Jacob had married. I certainly didn’t know he had a daughter.”

“But you know my name.”

“I do now.”

The card’s edge bites into my palm. “How?”

“A few months ago, something surfaced suggesting Jacob may be dead.”

My lungs forget their only job. Joshua catches my reaction, his voice lowering. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you like this.”

“May be dead?”

“I started checking into him again. That led me to records I never knew existed. A marriage. Your mother. You.”

“What surfaced?”

He winces. “That part deserves privacy.”

Anger flares hot inside me. “You found me after ten years, called me J.J., announced you’re my uncle, and told me my missing father might be dead. You can’t stop there.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I’d rather not deliver the rest while a plague doctor sells candied almonds ten feet away.”

I heave a sigh. This has royally fucked with my day.

“He called you J.J., didn’t he?”

My gaze snaps back to him. “Jubilee Jessica.” Sometimes, he called me his little joy.

Pressure builds behind my sternum. My eyes sting, and to Joshua’s credit, he doesn’t reach for me. I focus on him before I fall apart. “You’ve been watching me.”

“Watching is a strong word.”

“I’m a hacker. Words matter.”

“Fair enough.” His gaze drifts toward where Gage disappeared. “I’ve tried to approach you before. You’re rarely alone.”