Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom

dropped my sad, gray gaze from his searching green one and gestured at the boxes.
    “And what does all that tell you about her?”
    A thoughtful light flared in Finn’s eyes. “That Bria Coolidge’s icy shell is merely a mask to hide the soft, warm, sentimental woman that she really is deep down.” He paused. “Kind of like you. Black and crunchy on the outside, marshmallow-soft on the inside.”
    I gave him a hard stare. “I am not a fucking
marshmallow.
And I am especially not sentimental.”
    “Of course not. That’s why you just hacked and slashed your way through several giants to save a long-lost sister you haven’t seen since you were thirteen.” Amusement colored his placating tone.
    My eyes narrowed to slits, but Finn just grinned at me. My angry face had long ago lost its effect on him. Finn knew that I’d rather hurt myself before I did him.
    “But come here, I’ve saved the best for last,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him once more. “What’s most interesting about Bria is this.”
    Finn opened a door at the end of the hallway, and we stepped into Bria’s home office. Wooden desk, computer, stapler, sticky pads, lots of books and papers stackedeverywhere. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary—until Finn snapped on the light. And there it was, pushed against the back wall.
    An eight-by-ten picture of one of the spider rune scars on my palms.
    The photo was stuck in the middle of the biggest dry-erase board I’d ever seen. And it wasn’t alone. There were more pictures, ones that I recognized from the file of information that Fletcher Lane had left me—autopsy photos of my mother and my older sister. The burned husks of their bodies. Mounted right next to the photo of my scar.
    My stomach clenched, and that icy fist started squeezing my heart again.
    “What the hell is this?” I whispered.
    Still shocked, I moved closer to the dry-erase board. In addition to the photos, notes had been scribbled all over the surface in a variety of colors.
Murdered, burned, bodies reduced to ash
in red.
Physical evidence
in black.
Possible suspects
in navy blue.
Motive?
in a bright green.
    “What the hell is this?” I repeated.
    My eyes went up and down and all around the dry-erase board. Everywhere I looked there was another piece of information about the night my family had been killed, about the night that Mab Monroe had burned our house to the ground.
    “I believe some folks call it a murder board. It’s a visual representation of all the evidence found in relation to a crime. Some cops use them to help connect the dots or keep track of leads.” Finn leaned against the doorjamb.“From the looks of it, I’d say Bria is investigating the murder of your family. Just like you started to, after Dad left you that file.”
    “All right. I can understand her doing that, wanting to know the truth, who was behind the murders and why. But where did she get all this information?” I asked. “Especially that photo of the spider rune scar on my palm?”
    I peered at the photo, wondering how I’d been so sloppy as to let someone take a picture of my hands. Oh, every once in a while, someone eating at the Pork Pit caught a glimpse of my scarred palms. But I was always able to pass the marks off as burns I’d gotten working in the restaurant. It wasn’t like I ever stopped, held them up for everyone to see, and posed for pictures—
    And then I remembered. Fletcher Lane had bought a digital camera a few months before he died. He’d brought it to the Pork Pit one day to show it off to me. A fancy newfangled device, he’d called it in his gruff voice. The old man had started taking my photo, and I’d finally put my hand out in mock surrender to get him to stop. He’d snapped a final picture and smiled before putting the camera away.
    “Fletcher,” I murmured. “He’s the one who took the photo.”
    I told Finn about the camera incident and how I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time.
    Finn’s green eyes drifted over the murder board. “That’s not all Dad did, is it? He sent Bria the same folder of information that he left you, Gin. He sent her the exact same file about Mab Monroe murdering your mother and older sister.”
    “With a twist. Fletcher sent Bria a photo of my scar instead of the lovely headshot of her that he provided for me. Very thoughtful of him not to send her a glossy of my face.” I shook my head. “I can understand Fletcher leaving me the