29. Killion

KILLION

" H appy Halloween," I mutter as I shove the last bite of a Snickers bar into my mouth.

I check my watch and cringe because I should be with Hattie tonight. She works hard to put on these shindigs of hers and I want to show her how much I appreciate and support her.

But…

I shake my head at the mess of papers on my desk. The dim light of the lamp above casts shadows over the scattered files and photographs, and it looks every bit as scary as it should be on this haunted night.

The victims' faces stare back at me with their eyes frozen in time.

Silas Moon, Gavin Walters, Trent Parker, Desmond Leffler.

Four men.

Four murders.

And no clear connection.

I know the answer is here, somewhere among these pages and notes. I just need to piece it all together. And for the life of me, I can't seem to do it.

I lean back in my chair and rub hard at my temples.

My eyes are gritty from lack of sleep, and the coffee in my mug has long since gone cold. I should have taken Hattie up on that offer of homemade hot apple cider delivery.

I sigh and lean forward, scanning the information one more time. There has to be something I missed, some small detail that ties these men together.

"Silas Moon," I whisper, scanning his profile sheet. Real estate mogul, known for his charitable contributions and city projects. Contractor, part-time city council member.

I push him aside for now.

"Gavin Walters." Facilities manager for the city, involved in several community outreach programs, part-time city council member.

I inch back.

"What the…"

Trent Parker, delivery driver for Astoria Seafood. Part owner of Astoria Seafood.

"Part owner?" I inch back once again. "How did I not see that before?"

"Desmond Leffler," I mumble. Journalist for the Brambleberry Bay Gazette , known for his investigative pieces.

I shuffle the papers, their bios, their schedules, their affiliations. Something catches my eye—an old newspaper clipping. It's an article about a city council meeting. Silas Moon, Gavin Walters, Trent Parker—all mentioned as part-time city council members. And the article is written by none other than Desmond Leffler himself.

Now that's interesting.

Three of them were part-time city council members?

I bolt upright.

"That's the link," I growl.

That's the common thread.

All four men served on the city council. I do a quick search on any and all city council meeting notes, agendas, anything that might point to a motive. And sure enough, an article pops up from last spring.

Discussions about a new development project, one that would significantly change the landscape of Brambleberry Bay, all of them involving Grimm Enterprises.

That must be the name Banister uses for his culinary empire.

I read on—arguments, heated debates, and threats even ensued during the meeting. I scan the notes again and again, seeing the same names crop up repeatedly in opposition to the project, and something about the city funds depletion causing a flurry.

City funds depletion? What does that have to do with Grimm's expansions? It's as if I'm reading hieroglyphics, or as if the men at that meeting were speaking in code. It's almost as if they're all in on some big secret, something they were on the brink of brashly exposing...

I glance back down and the wind gets knocked out of me.

There it is. The missing piece. The motive.

I leap from my chair, scattering papers in my wake. If I've figured this out, Hattie likely has, too. She's always one step ahead of me, and if she knows who the killer is, then that only means one thing—she's in danger.

I rush through the precinct and hit the street with my breath fogging up in the icy night air.

Halloween Hollow.

That's where Hattie is.

I have to get there before it's too late.

And I pray I'm not.