ELIJAH'S POV
I hung up on Imogen and threw my phone across the bedroom. It hit the wall and clattered to the floor, the battery cover popping off. But I didn't care. I couldn't care about anything except the ice-cold realization creeping up my spine.
If Imogen was certain it wasn't suicide, then it wasn't suicide. And there was only one person in this city who loved using death as a calling card. One person who made sure everyone knew it was him, even when he couldn't be touched for it.
My hands shook as I picked up my second flip phone from the nightstand. The ancient thing still worked better than any other when it came to staying off the grid. I dialed Valentine's number, my fingers moving on autopilot.
"Mr. Sutton's office." His assistant's voice was crisp and professional.
"Put him on the phone. Now."
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Sutton is with his doctor right now and cannot be disturbed—"
