“The girl was a local.” Taz began steadily, tapping his perfectly-manicured fingers against the table. “For about three years now, she was a student living at the University of Boston. But originally she was a native of Michigan.”
That made me stop. “Wait, Michigan?” I felt the spring of a little red flag pop up.
Taz’s curiosity piqued at the tone in my voice. “You know something?”
I wasn’t entirely sure at first, but I had thought there was something I recognized about the girl. I looked over the photos to see if it maybe it was there, but amidst the gore and brain splatters there wasn't exactly a whole lot to go on. However, I realized that it would make some sense that perhaps the girl who had been murdered in my hotel room may have had some sort of affiliation to... me. I scanned over the pictures, looking for something, anything that was out of place that might have told me if it was in fact somebody I knew.
And much to my dismay, there was.
Far off in the corner in one of the photos of the blood and smoke-stained walls next to the nightstand was a lime green knapsack with an embroidered peace sign stitched into the ratty fabric. I knew instantly that it didn't belong. I knew exactly whose it was.
My entire face dropped. I guess I didn’t recognize her at first because she wasn’t wearing her trademark sunglasses, although I’m honestly surprised. I figured she would have died with them on. What had also stopped me from immediately identifying the girl probably had something to do with the gaping hole in the back of her head.
Johnny had murdered one of my suppliers- one of my friends- and in my own home no less. The home that once we called “ours.” The home that he’d abandoned. And the dumbass left his signature so everyone would know. Not only that, but once again, he managed to put me in harm’s way while he annihilated the very ground I stood upon.