I click on the links provided. It gives me more detail about Raide’s case. Assault leading to severe bodily harm of a man aged twenty-four years old. Suspected of murdering his—I gasp—his sister. His own sister. My face scrunches up as I read the articles provided. There is great detail about his sister and how she was found with multiple stab wounds to her chest and stomach. She was dead. Raide was found at the scene, knife in hand, towering over her boyfriend’s body, which was badly beaten. The boyfriend pressed charges, saying Raide killed his sister out of pure rage and came after him when he tried to defend her.
Why? It makes no sense. It says Raide had somewhat of a difficult upbringing; his father was a junkie, jailed when Raide was twelve. His mother left Raide and his sister when he was fourteen and she was only eleven. They were put into foster care together. Did something happen there? Why would he want to murder his own sister? It just doesn’t add up.
My chest clenches with an unfamiliar emotion. I can’t pretend I know Raide well enough to know if he’d do something like that, but he just doesn’t seem like the type. He’s got an arrogant side, sure, but there’s something else in his eyes, too. Something that expresses a hurt he’s lived with in the past. Could that hurt be because he actually did kill his sister? Or is he living with the fact that someone else murdered her and he couldn’t save her? That makes so much more sense.
Part of me doesn’t want to believe Raide did it, because that means the man I’ve been playing with is genuinely dangerous. The very thought has my heart constricting. Why should it matter, anyway? If he did it or he didn’t, my job is to bring him in regardless. I shouldn’t care if he’s being wronged, or attempt to decipher my feelings toward the whole thing. I force myself back to the here and now, pushing my emotions about it aside.
Raide could only be charged with assault due to the fact that right now he’s only a suspect for the murder. A good friend of his paid the bail money and Raide was let out to await trial. He was meant to show up for his trial, but he didn’t. So that’s when we were called in. It’s our job to hunt him down and bring him in so he can stand trial. We get paid, they get their trial. It also means Raide will face more time behind bars, because he chose to do a runner.
Tap tap.
I lift my head to see Vance at my window. I stand up with a smile and unlock my door, letting him in. He’s got a bag of Chinese food in one hand and soda in the other. Lifesaver.
“How’s it going, Gracie?” he asks, flopping down in the chair across from me.
“Good. Only you know to bring me Chinese food for breakfast.”
He grins. “Only you can eat Chinese food for breakfast.”
That’s true. Most people are grossed out by it, but whatever. It’s my thing.
“I’m just looking over Raide’s case,” I say, reaching for the soda. “It doesn’t quite add up.”
“How do you mean?” he asks, unwrapping the Chinese and sliding a box toward me.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it. “Well, it says he was found with a knife in his hand, his sister dead, her boyfriend badly beaten…”
“And?”
“And that he killed her and was going to kill him.”
Vance shrugs. “So what doesn’t make any sense?”
I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. “Firstly, why would he beat him so badly before attempting to kill him?”
Vance frowns. “Rage?”
“But why?” I rub my jaw. “Why would he have so much rage? There’s nothing about previous issues with the sister and her boyfriend. It doesn’t make sense. And if he just wanted to kill them, why beat him but not her? Why not stab him too and leave?”
“Maybe the boyfriend did something to him, or the boyfriend and the sister. Maybe something bad happened and he wanted revenge on both of them.”
“So why stab her but beat him first?”
Vance narrows his eyes. “Maybe the boyfriend was the one who instigated it … maybe he was trying to defend his sister … there are plenty of reasons.”
“It just doesn’t seem right.”
“Grace,” Vance warns, “don’t get caught up in this. You have a job to do, and that job is to bring Raide in. It’s not