𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

T W E L V E

[graham eaton]

I stand at my locker, staring at my cellphone in the back corner of my locker. Every time it buzzes or rings, I'm terrified it's another call from Ghost. Last night, after he called, I started getting calls from random people blaming me for the death of the young woman who was shot last night. This morning, when I came into work, another piece of mail was sent to us—a photo of the girl, dead. She was actually beautiful. She had deep chocolate skin, a small gold hoop pierced through her nose, long hair in thin braids. On her forehead, however, was a large bloody entrance wound for the bullet that killed her. The picture was of her laying on the ground in a pool of her own blood. I run my hands down my face and exhale, staring at the picture of the girl again. My phone rings and my heart plummets. It's an unknown number. I reach for it with a shaky hand, press accept, and raise the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I ask firmly.

"Graham?" A soft feminine voice asks. "It's Jolene. From the Flytrap. Can we talk?"

I exhale with relief. It's not Ghost. And it's not hate.

"Jolene, you have no idea how relieved I am to be speaking with you." I say.

She doesn't laugh or chuckle like I thought she would. She's serious. I raise an eyebrow and listen closely.

"Can we talk? It can't be over the phone—it has to be face to face. I have something I need to tell you." She says.

"Yeah, of course. How soon do we need to talk?" I ask.

"Right now. When can you come down?" She asks.

I turn around and look at Chief Williams cautiously.

"Right now. I'm gonna take my break and head down there. I'll see you in a few minutes." I say.

"Okay. See you soon." She says.

She hangs up and I place my phone in my back pocket. I grab my keys for my bike and walk to Chief Williams.

"I'm gonna take a break. A friend of mine says she wants to talk. I don't know what about but I sense that it's urgent." I say.

He nods and allows me to leave. I grab the photo and tuck it away in my pocket as well. I climb on my bike and drive down to her shop, parking out front. She stands at a table, her back to the door. I turn off the bike and climb off. I step inside, an eyebrow raised.

"Jolene?" I ask. "Is everything okay? You sounded serious on the phone."

"I'm fine—I just need to tell you something. Something serious." She says.

"Well, aren't you going to face me? It's kind of hard to speak to you when you won't look at me." I say.

She spins around slowly, facing me now. Her face is black and blue, her right eye purple and swollen shut. Her nose is purple and the skin is broken. Her lip is split and red, but the blood is dried. She raises her eyebrows and exhales.

"I think I know who Ghost is." She says.

I raise an eyebrow and examine her closely, wondering what the Hell happened to her.

"What happened to you? Who did this?" I ask.

She shakes her head exhales sharply.

"Ghost—I think. I'm fine, don't worry about me." She says. "I think I know the name of the girl he killed last night. I think it was one of my friends from college."

I step closer slowly, watching her.

"Is this your friend?" I ask, retrieving the photo, handing it to her.

She unfolds it and gasps, staring at the girl in the picture.

"Yes, that's her. That's Sierra Gates." She says. "She was one of my best friends in College."

Tears drip from her eyes and she stares down at her.

"What, Sierra Gates as in the Daughter of Mayor Gates?" I ask.

She nods, wiping her cheek.

"Do you blame me?" I ask. "For letting her die? I tried, I really did."

She looks up at me and shakes her head.

"No, of course not. He called you to make you feel guilty. He was going to kill them anyway." She says.

I exhale and look away. That's still a girl—someone's kid, the mayor's kid, who's dead because I couldn't convince him to not shoot her.

"You said you think you know who Ghost is. What can you tell me about him?" I ask.

She looks over at me and scoffs.

"Anything. I can tell you anything and everything you need to know about him." She says.

I raise an eyebrow and watch her closely.

"What makes you so sure that this guy is the Ghost?" I ask.

She shakes her head and blinks with her non-swollen eye.

"Because he attacked me in my apartment last night." She says.

I part my lips and furrow my brows, watching her ever so closely.

"Who is he?" I ask, stepping even closer.

She backs away, towards the table. She stabilizes herself by grabbing hold of the ledge of the table, exhaling sharply.

"Sorry, I'm just..." She exhales and covers her face with her hand.

I reach forward and slowly pull her hand away from her face and link our pinkies together.

"Scared?" I ask.

She nods, lifting her head to look at me.

"You're scared that he's gonna come back and find you. And beat you." I say.

She nods, looking at me.

"Who is he? What is his name? How do you know him?" I ask.

She looks at the door and exhales.

"James Barker." She says. "He was my boyfriend."

I raise an eyebrow and write down his name.

"Do you want to go to the Police? My father is good at keeping investigations under wraps. He can keep its quiet until it needs to go public." I say.

She bites her lip and nods. I step even closer, cupping his face with my hand gently.

"The cut on your nose isn't deep, won't need stitches." I say. "And these bruises should heal up in a few weeks. Take ibuprofen and acetaminophen alternating every four to six hours for pain control."

She nods. I take her hand and walk her out of the shop towards my bike.

"Oh Hell no, I'm not getting on that thing." She says. "Sure, it's Hot when an attractive guy drives them but I cannot ride one."

I smile and grab another helmet, offering it to her.

"This is the fastest way to the precinct. I can get you there and back in time to finish any commissions for the week. Trust me." I say.

She takes the helmet and pulls it on.

"The second I feel uncomfortable, I'm out." She says.

I nod, smiling. She climbs on, using my shoulders as stability. I grab her hand gently and pull it around my torso, pulling tight.

"Hold on and whatever you do, don't let go." I say.