Lips of an Angel by Adam Alexander

Author:Adam Alexander
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Imagin8 Ltd
Published: 2019-10-09T22:00:00+00:00

After Riley had left, Ethan washed up, and stood in the living room of his empty apartment. He realized that for a short time, while Riley had been around, he’d forgotten his grief. She had helped him forget. He went over to the bookshelf by the window, and picked up a picture of himself and Carly, taken a few years ago at the school football field. In the background, there were kids in football gear, and cheerleaders standing idly, chatting. The picture was taken one day when Ethan had come to watch a game that Carly was playing. They’d lost horribly.

Ethan smiled, looking at the picture. Carly was good, but he wasn’t cut out for football. The two of them had arms locked around each other’s necks and his brother was smiling broadly. Carly didn’t care how crap his team had been all season. He just enjoyed being out there, playing together with his team, winning or losing, it was all the same to him. He was a special kid. Ethan felt a pang of guilt at allowing himself to forget about his brother while he was preoccupied with his love life.

Had the police gotten any further with their investigation, he wondered. Was Carly’s killer still out there?

Ethan touched his face subconsciously as he remembered his journey into Eighth Street, and the beating he got. He dialed Detective Morris.

“Ethan, how you holding up?” Morris said as he answered the call. Morris had just arrived at his desk. He hovered at one corner, and picked up a folder.

“I’d feel better if I knew you were closer to catching Carly’s killer,” Ethan said. He perched on a high chair at the kitchen counter. The same one Riley had been sitting on just a few minutes earlier. He stroked the marble counter where her hands had been.

“Look, kid, it’s not as easy as you think. People in gang territory don’t talk,” Morris said. The usual activity continued at the station around him. People sat at desks, working on computers, talking on telephones, or fiddling with files. There was little sense of urgency. “We know someone must have seen something, and we’re still looking, but right now, it’s a little tricky.”

“What do you mean, tricky?” Ethan asked.

“I mean Knuckle Head Ed tricky,” Morris said, opening the folder. In it was a sheaf of paper, and clipped to the top sheet was a 5 by 7 picture of a man’s face, bald, dark complexion, scars running down both his left and right cheeks that looked like they were decades old, and a single gold earring in the shape of a skull in one ear. The page to which it was attached bore the man’s name: Ed Harper.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Who’s Knuckle Head Ed?” Ethan pressed.

“It means it’s an ongoing investigation and I’m not even supposed to be discussing it with you,” Morris said curtly. He picked up the folder and gazed at it for a moment. “Knuckle Head Ed. Ed Harper. He’s the leader of the Eighth Street Crushers.

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