“What? Pity? That’s not so bad. Curiosity? I can live with that.” She pressed a hand against his thudding heart. “If you’re by my side, I can get through all of that.”
“You can count on it, count on me, and it’ll start tomorrow.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not going to let you walk into the lion’s den alone tomorrow. We’ll walk into the station together. Anything anyone has to say to you can go through me first.”
Smiling, she drummed her fingers against his chest. “You’re going to take care of them like you threatened to take care of Sean?”
“That guy.” A scowl twisted Jake’s features. “I’m not gonna send my reply to Copycat Three through him.”
“Yes, you are.” She smoothed a hand across Jake’s face. “It’s perfect. He blogs about me and my past and then he segues into your response to the killer. Copycat Three is going to get what he wants...and so are you.”
“Why are you comforting me when it’s your life that’s about to be blown to bits?” He captured her hand and kissed her fingertips.
“That’s just it. The prospect of Sean outing me tomorrow doesn’t fill my heart with terror as long as I’m with you. When I’m alone in my cold bed...that’s another story.”
Jake curled his hands around her waist and pulled her from the stool, securing her against his chest. “Tonight, you’re not going to be alone in your bed, and it’s certainly not going to be cold.”
Once Jake started kissing and touching her, they didn’t make it to his bed or even to his bedroom. Much later, sated and languid, Kyra pushed the dark hair from Jake’s eyes as he studied her from beneath half-mast lids. “We should move this party to your bedroom.”
“Is this still a party?” He ran a fingertip down her spine, making her shiver.
“I’ll let you know after I brush my teeth and wash my face.” She rolled off the couch and scooped up her discarded clothing. As she faced the wall of glass that looked out over city lights, Kyra clutched her clothes to her chest. “You’re sure nobody can see in here?”
Jake joined her at the window, stark naked, and rapped one knuckle on the glass. “You see any houses facing mine?”
“What’s that tall building to the right?”
“That’s a mixed-use building on Sunset, some offices, some apartments. See how small those windows are? Nobody can see us from there unless they have a telescope trained on us.”
Kyra hunched her shoulders as a wisp of unease tickled the back of her neck. “If you say so.”
She left Jake to gather up his own clothes and cut through his bedroom to the master bath. She peeked into a basket on the vanity for the few items, including a toothbrush, she’d taken to leaving at his place.
He came up behind her and touched her hip. “I put your stuff in the second drawer.”
She opened the drawer he indicated and snatched up her toothbrush.
He swept the hair off the back of her neck and pressed his lips against the nape. “I thought it was a good idea to stash your stuff there while Fiona was here. What do you think?”
She forced a smile to her face and met his eyes in the mirror. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Jake stuffed his clothes into the wicker hamper and grabbed his own toothbrush. “When are you calling Hughes?”
“Tomorrow morning, but we didn’t even start working on your response.”
Jake wiggled his eyebrows. “We had more important matters to address.”
She bumped his hip with hers to gain access to the sink and rinsed out her mouth. “I suppose Sean is never going to tell me who ratted me out.”
“You don’t think he did the digging on his own?”
“Why would he? I barely know the guy. Why would he be looking into me?” She splashed water on her face and came up for air. “Nope. Somebody dished on me.”
“Do you think it’s him?”
“Laprey? Who else knows everything? Who else has been trying to make my life miserable for the past several months?” She dropped her toothbrush back into the drawer of shame and spun around. “I guess this is his endgame. I hope so, anyway. Maybe he’ll stop after this.”
“What more could he want?” Jake kissed her shoulder. “We’ll face it together tomorrow.”
Kyra left Jake in the bathroom and slid between his crisp sheets. When he joined her in bed, he pulled her back against his chest and draped a heavy arm over her waist. It didn’t take long before Jake’s breathing deepened.
Kyra lifted his arm from her body and paused as he murmured and shifted onto his back. She scooted to the edge of the bed and glanced over her shoulder at his sleeping form.
Then she grabbed one of his T-shirts, slipped it over her head and padded back into the living room with its fishbowl window on the world. Tucking her laptop beneath her arm, she curled up in one corner of the couch, inhaling Jake’s scent, which still clung to the leather.
She flipped open her laptop and accessed the Websleuths site. She clicked on the private message from Toby Dog and responded.
I do wanna play. What do you have in mind?
*
KYRA HAD BEEN playing coy the night before by not packing an overnight bag with work clothes. Now she regretted it.
Jake had been serious about walking into the station with her, so he’d followed her all the way to her place in Santa Monica and hung out with Spot, the stray cat, while she changed for work.
As she emerged from the bathroom, straightening her skirt, she smirked at Spot circling Jake’s ankles. “He’s going to get cat hair all over your pants.”
“I can live with a little cat hair, but I’ll keep him away from you.” He cocked his head, and his gaze raked her from head to toe. “You look good. Fierce. Ready to take on the world.”
“I’d better be. Have you checked out LA Confidential, yet?” She held up her phone. She’d been perusing the blog in the bathroom while drying her hair. “It could be worse.”
“I confess. I read it while you were in the shower and Spot was munching his kibble. It’s sensational. Hughes’s writing style is sensational, but you don’t come off looking bad.”
She snorted. “I come off like a shady lady from a 1940s film noir.”
“Is that bad?” Jake swooped down and grabbed Spot under his belly with one hand as the cat tried to make a beeline for her legs. “That’s the way Hughes writes. I can see why the blog is popular.”
“Megan Wright already called me, so the media have picked up on the story.”
“You talked to Megan?”
“Not yet. She left me a voice mail. I can tell she’s kind of hurt that I didn’t give her the scoop. She assured me, she would’ve handled my story with a lot more sensitivity than Sean managed.” Kyra raised and dropped her shoulders quickly. “Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. It’s out there now.”
“Let’s not make this worse by coming in to the station any later.” Jake rotated his wrist and stared down Spot’s angry gaze. “Time for you to take a hike. I gotta play wingman for the shady lady.”
Kyra insisted on taking her own car and followed Jake back to the Northeast Division. On the drive over, she called Megan.
Her friend gushed over the phone. “Are you okay, Kyra? My God, I never would’ve guessed your background, although you always did seem interested in serial killers in general and The Player, specifically. Did Jake know?”
“Jake knew.” Kyra didn’t go into the details about how Jake knew, how he’d had to pull every bit of the truth from her by hook or by crook. “Now everybody knows.”
“You come off kind of heroic, you know. K-killing Buck Harmon in self-defense while trying to protect a little girl. That’s not a bad thing, Kyra.” Megan paused. “Any way to track down the girl today?”
Kyra clamped down on the retort that rose t
o her lips. Megan was a journalist trying to do her job. “I think she deserves her privacy even though I’ve lost mine. My juvenile records are sealed, so her name won’t be public—unless someone outs her like someone outed me.”
“Who did out you, Kyra? Who knows your story and would spill it to Sean? Did he tell you his source?”
“I have no clue, and Sean didn’t tell me. Would you?”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t, even though we’re friends.” Megan sucked in a breath. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
“I don’t blame you for anything, Megan. Why would I? I don’t even fault you for wanting more of the scoop—you’re just not going to get it, at least not from me.” Kyra drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel. “Unless you don’t think you could be friends with someone like me.”
“What are you talking about, girlfriend? You’re a hero for ridding the world of a scumbag. And your mother’s murder? You deserve sympathy and support for that. I suppose that’s why you’re so good at your job. Can you imagine what your story’s going to mean to the family members of the copycat killers’ victims? Now they know you can truly understand what they’re going through.” Megan sniffled. “I’m proud to know you, Kyra. If whoever leaked this story to Sean thought they were going to hurt you, they misjudged the public.”
Megan’s words made Kyra’s nose tingle. She’d been keeping these secrets for so long because the truth made her feel exposed, vulnerable, but maybe she’d been wrong to hide it all.
“Thanks for your support, Megan. I’m pulling into the station right now, so we’ll talk later.”
When she ended the call, Kyra noticed that she’d received another call and voice mail, from Quinn this time. He must’ve heard the news.
She knew he wouldn’t be happy about the latest development in her life. Quinn and Charlotte had been the ones who’d told her to keep her past to herself. When she wanted to change her name from Marilyn Lake to Kyra Chase, they’d both encouraged her to do so and even helped her establish her new ID. She’d save Quinn’s call for later.
She trailed Jake into the station’s parking lot and parked her car with the unmarked police vehicles on the edge of the lot. She stayed in her car until she saw Jake’s head bobbing above the other black sedans.
Taking a deep breath, she exited her vehicle and wended her way through the cars toward him.
He held out his hand and she took it. Squeezing her fingers, he said, “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She disentangled her fingers from his and squared her shoulders. “Quinn left me a voice mail. He must’ve heard.”
“Do you think he’ll be upset?”
“I think I’d better see him tonight to reassure him. He never wanted me to reveal that my mother was one of The Player’s victims.” She tripped over a crack in the pavement and Jake caught her arm. “I don’t think he wanted my name and identity revealed.”
“Because he thinks The Player is still out there. But why would The Player be interested in hurting you after all these years?”
Kyra stopped and wiped her palms on her skirt. “Can we not talk about this right now? I’m about to face some curious colleagues.”
“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be supporting you, and I’m making it worse.” Jake tapped the side of his head. “Can’t turn off the detective.”
“I know that.” She tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Just don’t go off on anyone like you did with Sean Hughes last night. People are going to be curious, and that’s okay.”
He touched his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. “Got it. You haven’t talked to that... I mean, you haven’t talked to Hughes yet, have you?”
She clicked her tongue. “No, but we’re going to work on your response today and get it to him to publish tomorrow.”
Jake opened the door for her, and they walked through the lobby of the station. With her heart pounding, Kyra climbed the stairs to the second floor, which housed the conference room dedicated to the task force, or the war room, as they referred to it. Her knees wobbled, but she resisted hanging on to Jake’s arm for support.
She sailed into the war room, her chin held high and her gaze sweeping the space. Was she imagining it, or did the decibel level recede for a split second? A few people looked up and then looked away quickly.
She huffed a sharp breath from her nose and nodded at Jake as she took a seat at her desk in the corner.
Two seconds later, Lieutenant Alicia Fields approached Kyra’s desk. Perching on the edge, Alicia said, “Read LA Confidential this morning, and just wanted to let you know you rock. I always thought we were lucky to have your expertise on the task force, and that belief has increased tenfold. Keep up the good work.”
Kyra blinked back tears. “Thanks, Lieutenant. Means a lot.”
As soon as Lieutenant Fields walked away, a female patrol officer scooted a chair up to Kyra’s desk. “Hi, Kyra, my name’s Loretta, and I just wanted to let you know that I admire you so much after reading that blog. My stepfather was abusive, and he molested me and my sister. It took us a few years to get away from him. I wish we’d had someone like you to stand up for us.”
Kyra flattened a hand against her chest. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
After that, a few other officers gave her thumbs-ups, and she started getting emails from some of the family members of the copycats’ victims expressing their condolences for her mother and thanking her for her support.
Kyra’s heart had filled to bursting when Billy came to her desk and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m glad we have you on this task force, even though it must be incredibly hard for you to relive these crimes. We’re behind you—all of us.”
That was it. Kyra squeezed Billy’s hand and launched out of her chair. She stumbled blindly toward the restroom, her throat choked with tears.
When she made it to the bathroom, she crashed into a stall, startling an officer washing her hands. Kyra placed her hands against the metal door, dropped her head between her arms and sobbed.
After a few minutes of release, Kyra tugged some toilet paper from the roll and mopped her face. She hadn’t expected any of that. All her fears had been wiped away with a few kind words.
She peeked out of the stall, scanned the empty bathroom and walked to the vanity to inspect the damages. She splashed cold water on her face and dabbed at the streaks of mascara beneath her eyes.
She returned to the war room with greater confidence than when she’d entered it this morning, even with Jake by her side. This time, nobody shot her furtive glances and nobody abruptly stopped talking. Cops were a prosaic bunch, not given to excess sentimentality. That’s why she’d always liked working with them.
She clicked through a few more supportive emails from the victims’ families and then switched over to the psychological profile of Copycat Three that the FBI had provided the team.
She nodded along as she read, agreeing with the majority of the report. Jake’s response needed to challenge the killer’s manhood. They needed to unsettle Copycat Three and force his hand.
By the time Kyra had drafted a few responses, Jake texted her, inviting her out to a working lunch. Forty-five minutes later, they sat across from each other over sandwiches and salads, and she pushed printouts of her responses in front of him.
“This is what I have, so far.”
Ignoring the papers, Jake picked up his sandwich. “Do you want to talk about what happened this morning?”
Kyra’s nose twitched at the thought of the outpouring of support from her colleagues. “It was pretty awesome. Did you... Did you have anything to do with it? Did you call ahead and read them the riot act?”
“You give me way too much credit or power. What happened in there was spontaneous. You really think anyone in law enforcement is going to hold it against you that you killed someone in self
-defense, or that your mother was a victim of The Player? If anything, you solidified yourself as one of us. I just wish it hadn’t taken you so long to realize you had nothing to be ashamed about.”
“Quinn always encouraged me to hide it, or maybe just to put it in my past.” She rushed in to cover any perceived criticism of Quinn. “He wasn’t wrong. I did want to put it all behind me. I didn’t want to go through college being that girl. The freak show.”
“Maybe Quinn was right. But you’re mature enough to handle the fallout now, and I’m glad it’s out in the open. Maybe I owe Sean Hughes an apology.”
She tapped the papers on the table. “He’s getting your response to a serial killer for his blog. That’s enough of an apology.”
“Can I eat first?”
“Since I kept you from having breakfast this morning, I’d feel even more guilty if I kept you from lunch.”
When Jake emerged from demolishing half his sandwich, he asked, “Have you talked to Quinn yet?”
“No, I listened to his voice mail and he just asked me to call him.” She prodded bits of veggies in her salad around her plate. “I think he just wants to make sure I’m okay.”
“I think that’s all he ever wants for you. I don’t fault him for helping you maintain your secrets, if that’s what you think.”
“I don’t think that at all. He had his reasons, and they were right for the time.” She gave up on her salad and sucked down some iced tea. “Speaking of good parenting, did you talk to Fiona today?”
“A few times—this morning while she was having a late breakfast and just before I left for lunch as she and Lyric were getting ready to go to the mall. Even though Lyric had the day off from school, Fiona didn’t, so I told her she needed to be home before dinner to get her schoolwork done.”
“Have you looked any more at the alternate Instagram page?”
“Jazzy?” He dragged a napkin across the lower half of his face. “No, but I think I’d better discuss it with her. I’m learning enough from Brandon the IT guy to make me more and more uncomfortable with that page. It looks like we can’t get to the private messages Cannon and Fisher wrote on Websleuths. They’ve all been deleted, and we haven’t found a way to retrieve them yet. The internet can be a dark and dangerous place.”
The Bait Page 7
