by Kylie Dodson
"I don't know what's more unnerving," Blake said, pulling her from her daze. "The fact that a serial killer is using riddles as clues, or the fact that you were right, and there are going to be more bodies."
"Unless we can stop that from happening first."
"Well, there is one tie-in to this location. Besides the crane operators."
They both turned to the Driscoll Construction banner at the entrance to the construction site.
***
"I appreciate that. Thank you," Jennifer said before hanging up her phone. "Well, the crane operators are out."
"Just like that?' Blake asked.
"One of them threw up at the news of a dead woman on the crane. And the other insisted that the company pay a priest to bless the construction site to keep away bad spirits. Yeah, I'd say just like that."
"OK, that's reasonable." Blake turned to the wooden sign in front of him and rapped his knuckles on it. The Driscoll Construction company sign sat on a small, very plain office building in a nondescript office park. "You'd think with as much business as this place does, they could afford a nicer office."
Jennifer opened the glass door. "It's a construction company, Rivers. Not a tech firm."
"Still..."
The front lobby was very bare bones. The carpet was a basic blue, not much softer than concrete, with what looked like oil stains every three to five feet.
Awards and placards lined the wall, all leading to a photo of a young, owner and founder, Nathan Driscoll and two other men, cutting a ribbon in front of a bulldozer.
"Can I help you?" a young woman asked from behind the lobby desk just to the right of the entry-door.
"Hi," Jennifer started. "Is Mr. Driscoll in?"
"Do you have an appointment?"
Jennifer brandished her badge.
"I'm sorry," she said, unimpressed. "But, Mr. Driscoll is out of the country on business."
"When do you expect him back?" Blake asked.
"Late tomorrow morning. But he has five appointments."
"I think he'll reschedule for mine," Jennifer said.
"I can put you down, but I can't promise anything," the woman said.
"What were your names?"
"I'm Detective," Jennifer emphasized the word." Jennifer Case. And this is Blake Rivers."
Blake leaned on the desk, expecting the woman to fawn over him.
Jennifer kept her smirk well hidden when the woman showed no sign of familiarity with the world-famous investigative journalist, Blake Rivers.
"I have you down, but like I said, Mr. Driscoll is a busy man. I can't guarantee you'll get a meeting with him tomorrow."
"Understood," Jennifer said as she started toward the door. "I appreciate you trying."
"Well," Blake said as they walked back to the car. "Not exactly a dead end. But now what?"
"Back to the office. Maybe we can better decipher this riddle there. I want to bring Snell and Harrison in on this."
Her phone went off before Jennifer even had a chance to unlock the driver side door.
"What's up?" Blake asked.
Jennifer read through the message. "Apparently, Dubs has a bit of a crush."
"Is that out of the ordinary?" Blake asked.
"Since I've known her, yeah. She's asking for my advice on what to do."
"Well, I don't mean to brag, but I happen to be an expert in that field."
"The field of talking to men?" Jennifer teased.
Blake started to argue but shrank back. He obviously had no better come back for her razzing.
Jennifer's thumbs flew quickly over the phone's QRTY keypad, responding to Dubs. [We need a girl's night]
CHAPTER 10
Jennifer could still hear the thumping bass from the dance floor next to the connected lounge. It wasn't loud enough to drown out conversation, but it did remind her that they were still in the club instead of a classy little bar. If purple lights and everyone looking to go home with someone that night could be considered classy.
Even though she was off duty, her training still kept hold of her.
Jennifer's eyes and ears were constantly aware of her surroundings, and she was ever ready to act if need be. Although, the most noticeable sight and sound was that of Misty 'Dubs' Dubbins tugging at her skirt and lamenting her discomfort in such an ensemble.
Jennifer was actually surprised that Dubs had such an outfit in her closet. The younger police coroner had admitted to a different lifestyle at one point in her life. In all the time Jennifer Case had known Dubs, she never pegged her to be the party-girl type. Jennifer thought it was curious how people could go from loving a thing to loathing it after enough time had passed.
"Quit tugging at that thing. You look cute," Jennifer said.
"Yeah. I just...It's been a while. And when you said girls' night, I thought you meant staying in with wine or something."
Jennifer picked up her glass from the white lit table between them.
"Wine is for after having a rough day. We're here to loosen up." She took a sip from her neon green Midori sour.
Dubs looked around, still unsure of their surroundings. She grabbed her glass and raised the straw to her lips. Her expression during her own slow sip of Midori sour looked more like someone holding a security blanket rather than a tasty beverage.
Jennifer reached for Dubs and rested a reassuring hand on her knee. "Relax. You already spent an hour dancing in there." Jennifer flicked her thumb at the padded wall made of a royal purple velvet--the separator between the lounge and the dance club. "Why are you still tense?"
"These places are meat markets," Dubs said.
"Yeah, they are. But it's a perfect spot for what you need."
"I thought you were going to give me advice for this guy."
"I am. And a hunting ground like this is ideal for putting that advice into action. If you can talk up one guy here, in a place like this, then I'm sure you can find the courage to get a date from--what was his name?"
"Glen," Dubs face lit up. "And he's so smart. Like, so, so smart. And he's funny, and he's--he's a little geeky, but I think it's cute. Plus..."
As Dubs went on about her crush, Jennifer thought he sounded like he was perfect for the girl. Dubs needed to be around people of similar intellectual levels. Even Jennifer felt a little out of place around her. She adored and respected Dubs to no end. But she could be hard to relate to. Especially when it came to conversations about science and biology. As a law officer, Jennifer knew criminal psychology--her job demanded it. She also ran on instinct. Facts were necessary, but in her line of work, facts could sometimes get in the way of investigations. Her gut had often led her to the right choice despite what the facts seemed to prove.
"He sounds really great," Jennifer said. "So, why is it so hard for you to talk to him?"
"I guess he just intimidates me."
Jennifer nodded her head in understanding. Jennifer Case was not easily intimidated, but when it came to matters of the heart, all bets were off.
She scanned the lounge area as if looking for a target.
"There," she said, gingerly pointing toward the bar.
Dubs followed her finger and her eyes widened. "Wow. That guy is hot."
"Yes he is," Jennifer said with a total lack of desire.
The guy was hot, it was just a fact. Even if there weren't three ridiculously good-looking women all vying for his attention, that fact would still remain. He looked like he belonged on a cologne advertisement on the inside flap of a magazine. Perfectly styled hair. Six-foot-two. A chiseled jawline and hunter eyes, permanently narrowed like they're always scanning the horizon. Jennifer couldn't tell from that distance but his eyes were probably blue.
If she wanted him, Jennifer would probably have no trouble intimidating the three girls around him. But she didn't want him. She had other plans.
"Go get his number," Jennifer said.
Dubs turned to her, mortified. "What? Me? No way."
Jennifer took a
nother drink. "Yes, way. If you can get his number then you can definitely get Glen's. If you can get that guy's number, then you can ask Glen on a date."
"But those other girls are--"
"A dime a dozen," Jennifer interjected. "That guy works with girls like that all the time. He's surrounded by them."
"He looks like he likes it."
"Of course he does. He's a guy. But it's nothing he hasn't experienced before. You know what he hasn't experienced?"
"What?"
"Misty Dubbins. Now go get him."
Misty lifted her glass to her mouth and sipped straight from the rim.
Jennifer gently lifted the bottom of the glass, ensuring Dubs guzzled all of the liquid encouragement.
The previously filled Midori sour glass hit the table and slid in its own condensation ring.
"This is your advice?" Dubs asked.
"Sometimes you have to jump right in the deep end."
"Is that how you got Blake Rivers?"
"I..." The question hit Jennifer sideways. It was completely unexpected. Did Dubs think she and Blake were some kind of item? If that was the case, did anyone else think the same? "What makes you ask that? I don't have Blake Rivers. We're not a couple."
"I don't know," Dubs said. "It seems like you two are dating."
"Where would you even get that notion--Wait a minute. Are you trying to stall or get out of this?"
"Maybe?" Dubs said sheepishly.
Jennifer shook her head. "Not gonna work. Now, go get hot guy's number."
Dubs grimaced but Jennifer only pointed a commanding finger in response. That was all it took to send the girl on her way.
Jennifer watched as Dubs made her way past other lit up tables and through the crowd of drinkers and loungers, on the way to her target. The detective had to give her credit...Dubs didn't look back in a last-ditch plea to get out of it. It was another respectable trait about the girl. She may have been apprehensive about a thing, but once she set in motion to do it, she saw it through to the end. Pass or fail.
A sly smile crept across Jennifer's lips. She took a little pride in being Miss Matchmaker. It was a skill she figured she picked up from Cassidy Rain.
The smile didn't last long as opposing thoughts entered her mind. She felt a little sallow that she didn't have her eye on anyone special. That thought led to the life she didn't have. The husband. The house. Kids. It wasn't an impossibility in her job, but it also wasn't easy. Casual romps were much less complicated. Though she was starting to think that those were getting old. Taggart was fun and all, but how long could that really last? And he certainly wasn't someone she wanted more from.
Her phone spun as it vibrated on the table. Her eyes caught the movement and she glanced down to see who was texting her. The name Mr. Investigation popped up and Jennifer's sallow frown turned into a mild expression of amusement.
She opened the message from Blake Rivers. [Where are you?]
She typed [Why?] as her reply. It was a fairly straight-forward question. But there was a part of Jennifer that hoped he got the flirtatious subtext. Or that he, at least, assumed there was a flirtatious subtext.
"Wait," she said before hitting send. "What am I doing?" She lifted her glass then set it back down. It was probably best for her to stop drinking. Especially if she was thinking about Blake Rivers in that sense. All the guy-talk with Dubs had gotten to her head.
She scrolled through her contacts and landed on Taggart. She was probably just getting worked up in a place like that. It was on everyone's mind, she could feel it in the air. "No. This is girl's night."
Her first thought was to put the phone face down. Unfortunately, even an off-duty officer could get pulled on to a call. It was safest to leave it facing up. Just in case.
She looked at Dubs to find her one-night-only protege laughing and keeping the hot guy's attention. And even better, gone were the three huntresses that were on him before. Jennifer felt a small sense of pride. Whether Dubs got the guy's number or not wasn't the point. Just approaching him was.
The coroner slapped the hot guy's shoulder. A classic girl move. She hung in there a little longer than normal. Another classic move. Maybe Misty Dubbins' party girl persona wasn't completely gone. The girl clearly knew what she was doing.
The familiar vibration went off again and Jennifer's eyes dropped to her phone.
It was another message from Blake. [Late night sushi?]
"I hope that's not a euphemism," Jennifer muttered as she typed her reply. [Don't you need your beauty rest?]
[I'm making an exception for tonight]
"Interesting," Jennifer said, a part of her hoping that maybe she was the exception.
Before she could type even one letter, another message came in from
Blake. [Come on. There's dancing]
[I've already danced. Try again] She typed. Jennifer shook her head. While a small part of her had hoped that she was the exception he was talking about, another part of her couldn't believe she was trying to rope Blake Rivers into flirting with her. She really had had too much to drink.
His reply came. [Yeah. But have you danced with Nathan Driscoll?]
CHAPTER 11
Jennifer's heels clacked on the ruddy concrete. Her instincts let her avoid potholes and chucked up gravel without her having to look. Unlike a few other patrons of what looked to be a popular nightspot.
The line must have been seventy people deep. A McClaren sports car eased up to the front door. Jennifer watched as all eyes were on who came out of it. It wasn't anyone Jennifer recognized, but the car was ultra-expensive. An early twenty-something stepped out and handed the keys to a valet. Jennifer tried to imagine the car owner saying 'don't scratch it'.
Whatever kind of sushi place Riptide was, it was obviously where all the cool kids hung out. Including Blake Rivers.
Jennifer took a quick glance at her ensemble then compared it to what the other women were wearing. And while her outfit didn't have a tight skirt or a plunging neckline, she felt confident her loose fitting and flowy skirt, raised just to mid-thigh, and her top with a heart-shaped window just above her own cleavage--not enough to make any men drool, but just enough to add a little intrigue--was comparable and appropriate for the place.
Still, the line was long, and no one was getting in just because they were dressed for it.
She reached into her clutch and pulled out her badge, palming it as she approached the door, bypassing the line.
She ignored the protests and groans as she stepped right up to the door man. He didn't even bother looking at her.
"Name?" he asked.
Jennifer gingerly set her badge on his tablet. That got his attention.
"Detective Jennifer Case. I'm conducting an investigation involving this establishment."
The doorman said no more. He grabbed one end of the velvet rope and let her through.
She felt a twinge of guilt as the others waiting in line shouted how unfair it was that she was allowed in. But it was a perk of the job. And while she was definitely off duty, Nathan Driscoll was a person of interest. Therefor using her badge as a VIP pass wasn't exactly dishonest.
***
A loud bass line crashed in her ears at the same time strobe lights flickered in the jam-packed dance hall. It was a strange sight to see all of the bodies writhing in a staccato'd movement created by the strobe. She knew it was just the strobe playing visual effects, but it still looked like something out of a Faustian painting. The farther back into the club she looked, the more normal the movements of others appeared. Most of the dancers were jumping up and down in time with the bass. It was those nearest her that appeared like an orgy of snakes.
Jennifer took note of the DJ on a raised platform. He leaned his ear into his headphones while his hands moved around, turning knobs and sliding faders. The music wasn't much different than the place she'd just left.
She was glad Dubs understood why she had to leave. Besides, it hadn't taken Jennifer long
to realize that she had to let her little bird fly. Any further lingering would have just cramped Dubs's style.
She took her gaze from the DJ to the second floor where people were standing at the bannister rail, looking down at the dancers. Some were seated at tables, enjoying libations and food.
"Feed me!" a woman shouted, dragging a man behind her.
Jennifer didn't want to know what she meant by that. But she watched the two rush to an ornately decorated door.
As the door swung open, Jennifer could see people sitting at tables just beyond it.
***
The music inside the restaurant and lounge was the same as the dance floor, except it was nowhere near as teeth-chatteringly loud. The sound proofing in the place must have been very expensive. Jennifer could barely hear it from the other room.
There were a few people dancing in the lounge, though not as chaotically. The room was dimmer, with black walls and red accent lights. The tables and their red booths were lit up by dual lamps affixed to the walls. It seemed like a nice date night sort of place.
She didn't turn around when a finger tapped her on the shoulder. She knew she had two guesses at who it belonged to. Choice one: some guy looking to hit on her. Choice two: Blake Rivers. She went with choice two and turned around.
Blake was doing his best impression of a club-goer. He might not have been too bad if his feet weren't planted firmly on the floor. Still it was enough to make her wonder what he might be like in a less upright position.
"Nice dress," he complimented.
It was unexpected to hear but it did take her mind from a place it shouldn't have been going. "Um--Thanks. It's not as revealing as some of these other women--"
"Do you always lessen a compliment?" he asked.
Jennifer could tell that he was a little tipsy. Not enough to be sloppy, but just enough to be less inhibited. She wondered if it might lead to certain revelations.
"Dance with me, Case."
