What was the message? Was there one?
His gut told him this was the work of multiple killers, but if that was so, what had drawn Dana’s attention to these? Was it just a fascination with the macabre? No, she had winced as he retold some of the murders he was involved in. Collecting these articles demonstrated purpose, storing them in a safe deposit box was a sign that she was fearful of losing them. There were only a few who did that — collectors and the law. It was evidence but for what? Why gather it? Why visit Santa Fe if she felt her life was in danger? Why take the risk? Jack looked down again at the articles. There were thirty-two articles from different newspapers with the oldest dating back to the early nineties. The only common thread was that they all included a photograph of the crime scene. Why keep these, Dana? He squinted at the images trying to make sense of it. That’s when he noticed something, or better put he remembered. He flipped back several articles to check. Sure enough, there it was, a chess piece. Jack thumbed back again. A pawn nearby, tipped on its side with the tip facing the body, in another he saw it left on a windowsill, and in another next to shampoo bottles, and… he thumbed furiously through the articles scanning the photos. Every single one was the same. The piece was always there even if it was inconspicuously placed. It was a calling card, a signature left behind to send a message. Dana was collecting these because she’d found a common thread.
After returning to Tyson’s home, he showered and dressed and ambled down the stairs to find Tyson quietly talking with his mother over the breakfast table. There were a few plates of toast, a bowl of butter, a box of cereal and a pot of coffee in front of them. It smelled like fried bacon. Tyson raised his eyebrows. “Hey Jack, I have to go into town this morning to run an errand, I thought we could grab a bite to eat at a local café, if you’re up for it?”
“You haven’t had breakfast?”
“No, apparently mine is not good enough,” Shanice said before pursing her lips.
Tyson laughed and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You know I love it.”
Jack glanced at Shanice and she gave a nod before disappearing into the rear living room.
“So?”
“Sure, I’ll grab my stuff.”
“Ah leave it, man. I mean unless you need it or are planning on leaving the city today? Are you?”
“I wasn’t planning on it, at least not yet.”
He slapped him on the arm. “Good. Then you’ll stay with us.”
Jack threw up a hand. “Tyson. I don’t want to impose.”
“It’s okay. It’s not a problem. In fact it was actually my mother’s idea.”
“It was?”
He nodded. “Yeah, and if you’re interested I think I might be able to hook you up with a job with Jeremiah. He’s always looking for new blood.”
Jack half heard him as he turned to head back up to collect his bag. He didn’t want Shanice snooping through it and he had an idea she might, if only to get a better feel for him. He could tell she was leery of having him around and for good reason. She didn’t know him, and by the sound of those Tyson was running with she must have expected he was no different. When he made it to the bottom of the stairs, Tyson was outside having a cigarette and petting the dog. Jack headed into the back to make sure Shanice had suggested he stay. He didn’t want to outstay his welcome. She had returned to sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading through a newspaper when he stepped into the arched doorway.
“Mr. Weslo,” she said without looking up.
“Tyson—”
“Yes, I suggested it. If you’re staying, that is,” she said lowering her paper and peering over her small glasses at him. “The way I see it, Tyson could use a positive influence. You know — someone to watch his back with Nicky in the hospital and all. Lord knows he’s got enough unsavory characters around him.”
“But you don’t know me.”
“No I don’t,” she said looking down at her paper again. She flipped a page over. “But the Lord and I had a good conversation last night and call it a gut instinct, I think he would have you stay.”
Jack studied her and nodded slowly. The Lord spoke to her? Who was he to call her out on her bullshit? He fished into his bag and took a roll of cash and set it on the table. “Well I don’t know how many days I’ll be staying, but it won’t be long that’s for sure. Either way, here’s something to cover any cost.”
“Keep your money.”
“It’s not a problem.”
She lifted her eyes. “It is when I don’t know where it came from.”
They exchanged a glance and he understood what she was insinuating.
“The money’s clean. I wouldn’t accept it if it wasn’t.”
She eyed the roll of green and looked at him again. Jack could tell she was tempted. It wasn’t like they were living in the lap of luxury. “Fine. Leave it there. I’ll pray about it.”
Again he nodded slowly as he bid her good day and backed out of the room. He was used to Dalton’s religious
