Cheryl Bradshaw - Sinnerman

There was a knock at the door. He looked at me and said, “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

A minute later Giovanni’s brother and the chief entered the room. The chief looked like he’d had about twenty cups of coffee and all the added sugar he could stand.

“Sloane, are you alright?” the chief said.

I nodded.

“I’m doing fine.”

I felt like I’d been shaken and stirred, but I didn’t want everyone else to know that. Just being in the presence of the man I’d hunted for the last few years aroused all kinds of emotions inside me. I was so close, and now all I could think of was whether I’d get another chance or if I’d blown it all together.

“You got something for me?” Agent Luciana said.

I nodded and rose from the chair and walked over to a small round table at the corner of the room. I reached into my bag that rested on top and pulled out the needle that took Lucio about twenty tries before he freed it from its home on high.

“I didn’t have any plastic with me,” I said. “So the only thing I could do was fold it in a napkin I had in my car.”

Agent Luciana took it and thanked me. It was always all business, all the time with him.

“I doubt you’ll get any prints off it, he was wearing gloves,” I said.

He nodded.

“Just what in the hell is this guy after anyway?” Agent Luciana said.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I said. “Me.”

The chief and Agent Luciana exchanged looks and then sat down on the sofa. I sat across from them. Giovanni stood in the corner of the room, leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Go on,” the chief said.

“This is the way I see it—for whatever reason, Sinnerman wanted everyone to believe he’d been caught. He framed a guy for the murders, planted evidence in that same guy’s car and had every last detail organized; it was a well-choreographed operation. And he was so good at it, you all believed you’d caught the killer, and who knows, maybe you still think that. All I know is he went through a lot of effort to pull this off so that everyone would stop looking for him. And when he thought he’d succeeded, the first thing he did was to come after me.”

“What does he want with you though?” the chief said. “All his other women have been random. Why single you out—I mean I get there’s a sister connection, but…”

I shrugged.

“Maybe because I called him out, who knows. No other woman has been bold enough to do that. But to put all this together just so he could get his grips on me…”

“I’ve seen this type of thing before,” Agent Luciana said. “Not in this exact way, but I believe he’s become obsessed with you, and I’d be willing to bet that there’s no avenue he won’t consider in order to get what he wants. There’s a term for his behavior: erotomania.”

“Eroto what?” I said.

“It’s when a person suffers with a form of delusion where they believe the other person is in love with them. They live in some type of fantasy until they feel betrayed, at which point, they can become violent. I believe he’s been stalking you for some time.”

“Why me?” I said.

Giovanni walked over next to me and sat down.

“Because of who you are,” he said. “You’re gutsy; you let him know you were coming after him. You told me yourself that you believe this guy gets his kicks from a challenge, and I’ve never known a better one than you.”

“If he wants me, he can come and get me,” I said. “I have another bullet for him, and this time it will be aimed straight at his chest.”

CHAPTER 38

Three hours later I stepped out of my car and into a local joint known for being the place to go if you wanted to score, and by score, I didn’t mean a one night stand. My attire for the evening was black. A fitted black t-shirt with shredded holes on both sides, faded jeans, and dark makeup, and I’d gone so heavy on the eyeliner I could have attracted a male raccoon. I felt like a prostitute, and I imagined I looked the part as well.

After I’d sorted the morning’s events around in my head, I realized there was one person I needed to talk to who was the best chance I had to find Sinnerman—Trisha. She’d fingered the guy in custody fast—too fast. And then there was the matter of her bloody nose. For a girl who claimed to live where she did, the way she dressed told me otherwise.

Behind the counter at the bar was a giant of a teenager with bluish hair accented with black tips on the ends that were shaped into perfect spikes on top of his squarish head. The spikes reminded me of the points on a stegosaurus, and they were so stiff, I wanted to ask him what kind of hairspray he used for future reference. He eyed me with a look of distain.

“You gonna order lady, or what?”

I shook my head.

“Nobody comes in here and doesn’t get a drink or something, okay?”

“Fine. I’ll take the or something,” I said.

His forehead creased into several lines that spanned the length of his head.

“What’ll it be?”

For the sake of appearances, I knew I needed to order before he became unnerved enough to tip everyone off to the imposter lurking about the place. The last thing I needed was the fine patrons of the seedy establishment to clear out like a bomb had just gone off.

“You got any Absinthe?”

He nodded.

“I’ll take a shot of that,” I said.

“A shot of it?”

“You heard me,” I said.

He shook his head and relayed the order to the lanky woman who stood behind him. Her size XS tank top hung off her body like a piece of torn fabric in the wind. While she poured my drink, my favorite girl who cried wolf meandered through the door. She looked disheveled, just like the first time we met, except this time there was one difference: she fondled a wad of cash in her right hand. She didn’t notice me, and that was fine. It gave me a chance to observe her. And the first thing she did was to head straight for a back room. I waited and as I did so, I weighed my options about whether or not to take the shot that had just been placed in front of me. I took it.

“Another?” the bartender said when I’d finished.

I shot him a wink and edged off the barstool.

“I’d like something a bit stronger,” I said, and tilted my head toward the door Trisha just went through.

“Ahh,” he said. “I see.”

I didn’t, but I was about to. I made my way through the crowd and stood a couple feet from where Trisha had just entered. It didn’t take long for her to reemerge, and by the smile smeared across her face, it looked like she got what she wanted. She made her way to the entrance and walked out of the bar without a word to anyone. I followed.

When I got outside Trisha was about twenty paces in front of me.

“Where you headed?” I said.

Trisha curved her body around. She had a stunned look on her face, and once she got over her initial shock, she walked in my direction.

“Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you a question,” I said.

“Which is?”

“I want to know why an innocent man is in custody.”

Her eyes widened, and she placed her hand over her heart.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on—you know. And I’ve been thinking, what could motivate a person enough to send an innocent man to trial?”

She looked at the ground like she didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t want to say it out loud?” I said. “Fine, allow me. Drugs.”

“I don’t do drugs.”

“Turn out your pockets,” I said. “Prove it.”

“You don’t have the right to tell me to do anything,” she said. She spread both hands out to the side like she was trying to push air away from her and said, “I’m outta here.”