When Nate and Parker walked in, they saw Eliot seated at the dining room table. While Sophie was slouched on the couch. A slight tension emitted from the grifter as she unconsciously rubbed her palms together. She didn't initially register their presence. Like Eliot her skills slowed down with grief. Her eyes connected with Parker's worried ones, and she made a mental note to console the thief later. Then she fixated back on the blank screens in front of her. Eliot, on the other hand, had a contradicting calmness to him. His hands were clenched together, forming a white hue over the knuckles yet his movements were precise as he found a seat in the dining room. Once the two walked in, his eyes connected with Parker's and she sheepishly walked over to him, sliding into an adjacent chair.
She pulled out her phone and then showed him the photo taken at The Martin's ranch. "Mr. Martin said that the killer took a picture of you and Aimee."
He took the device out of her hand, using his thumbs to zoom in. Eliot studied the image for a moment before his brows formed what looked to Parker like two fuzzy caterpillars attempting to greet each other. She wanted to say this but she knew Sophie would scold her about joking while someone is 'grieving'.
"He took a family photo," he mumbled.
"Do you know why he would do that?"
"Why would I know that, Parker," he growled.
Her eyes widened in confusion. "Why are you snapping at me? I only thought you knew this type of stuff. I'm just trying to help!"
Nate groaned in frustration, "Guys, really?" his voice was coated in exhaustion as he slumped down next to Sophie. He rested his elbow on the armchair next to him before drifting off.
Eliot scowled at the man and then turned back to Parker. His face softened when he picked up on the thief's uneasiness. He sighed, then asked: "What else did you find?" She was quiet. "Parker," he nudged.
Parker stared at his brows for a moment. Seeing if the frustrated caterpillars still wanted to meet. But they rested far away from each other in a relaxed state, prompting her to continue.
"He set her up in the middle of the room. Her chair facing the photos and the mirror above them. Wh-. . . when someone wants to hurt you-" she picked at the skin of her thumb. "He wanted to show her how he could take her happiness away."
Eliot didn't question how she knew this. Parker was like him, wanting her past to stay in the past. He brought his attention to The Martin picture. In it was the photo frame of Aimee with her nephew. She looked happy. At least the man gave her the mercy of dying with that being her last image.
"Why is there a pie in the sink?"
Eliot looked up to see Parker in the kitchen. He smirked. Despite knowing her for a while now she can still in one lithe movement, go from sitting in a chair, to across the room without a single noise.
"Ew, it looks like someone chewed it up and spit it out," her nose crinkled as she made a childish gagging sound.
Just with a sound, the smell of intense vomit filled the nose of Nathan Ford. He blinked heavily at the greenish-beige bile that stained the shirt of Aimee Martin.
"Please, that's all I know I swear," she pleads.
This appeared to the man as a haze. His vision felt like he was looking down a road during a heatwave. He sat up, then wiped away the beads of sweat resting on his forehead with the back of his hand. An unknown sound amplified in his ear—a whistling white noise. Turning to the side of him he saw it. His forehead wrinkled at the pouring hourglass. The last grain of sand drifted to the button. At that exact moment, he heard It speak.
The familiar voice whispered: "tsk, tsk." The unknown figure from his previous drunken memory stood above Aimee. It dug into a pocket, keys jingled around, and It pulled out a phone. With a few clicks, the device began to ring.
A voice growled on the other end of the phone: "what."
Still clutching the arms of the chair, Aimee let out a hollow breath. Before whispering into the device, "Eliot?"
In mere milliseconds the hitter responded with "Aimee?"
Still groggy, Nate made out the woman's facial features. Tears streamed down her face as her body shook uncontrollably. The man attempted to wobble to a standing position, to comfort her. But then a flash hit and a pop rumbled the room. Leaving a lifeless husk clutching a chair. A salty taste graced his upper lip. His hands were blurred in front of him as he wiped away the known tear from his cheek.
The shadowy figure noticed him. "Crying is unbecoming, Mr. Ford."
Like an electric shock from a charged taser, Nate jolted from the couch. Sophie broke from her daze, her eyes wide as saucers. "Nate, what happened?!"
He turned to her with a feral look on his face. Gulping as he clutched the fabric on the couch. "I know who killed her."