A Mother's Boy

3. Death's Playlist - James

  I walked in the office, cup o' joe in my hand, briefcase in the other. My coffee had two shots of espresso: I didn't get much sleep last night. I went to the library and picked up a copy of Death's Playlist myself.

I read it overnight, trying to find numbers or something that would even clue me in to what keycode to push in.

Nothing.

Just some novel about a man who made a playlist of a compilation of songs that described his life before he died. Full of flashbacks and love. Not my cup of tea to be honest. I sat down and took a sip of my coffee, trying to regain energy and motivation.

I set my cup down and rubbed my eyes, taking a closer look at the papers that had been placed on my desk for today. One particular one caught my eye: an envelope with a sticky note that said: 

"This might help. - Nick." 

Ooooh, Nick. Nick Beckett. He's my partner in crime (solving). He knew how hard I was working last night from all my groans and complains of frustration I was emitting from my mouth to his ears. He was a good listener. 

I took the envelope and dumped its contents on my desk: Nothing falling but a tiny key. An evidence box key. I didn't think this would help since all we've collected from Andrew so far is a knife and a phone. I got up and went anyway.

I had to find this keycode. I've invested too much time. I mean, I didn't need to do this. We'd already caught him and have an injured (but conscious) witness and bloody knife with fingerprints to prove it was Highland. But, it would kill me if I quit now. I walked in the tiny, slim room and looked down at the key.

'137' was the number etched in the metal, so I matched it with its appropriate box, putting on gloves and  pulling out just the phone. I had already examined the knife plenty. No numbers there. I turned it on, looking at its home screen. This guy literally had no downloaded apps and barely any contacts. I clicked through the whopping 1 page of apps, no numbers or anything popping out at me. I mean the weather app couldn't possibly give me an answer. 

The last one I clicked was the iTunes app, scrolling through his music. He sure had a lot of that. Wait. Music. Playlist.

Death's playlist. 

I quickly clicked on his playlists, seeing only one titled: "Mother." There was only one song in it: Jenny - Everclear. Haven't heard it before. I turned the volume up and started listening. 

Jenny, Jenny, who can I turn to
You give me something I can hold on to
I know you think I'm like the others before
Who saw your name and number on the wall

Jenny, I've got your number
I need to make you mine
Jenny, don't change your number

867-5309
(867-5309)
867-5309
(867-5309)

Oh my goodness. I quickly grabbed the pen from my breast pocket, scribing the numbers on my hand. I carefully put the phone back and closed the box, taking off my gloves and running out the door. I scrabbled to my office and grabbed my briefcase, rushing to my car and starting the engine. 

I found it.