“My expectations?”
“Yes, your expectations.”
“You think those are the first breasts I’ve seen, Mom?”
“Just making sure you knew they were fake… and distorted.” She glanced at him. “You know, the areolas.”
She chuckled, enjoying the fact that she knocked him off his game, if even for a moment. She pulled onto the dark two-lane highway. Not a single car on the road, which wasn’t unusual considering it was almost midnight. After the cops arrived, Shay was taken to the station for additional questioning while half the team stayed behind to search the house, check with her alibi, and bag up Misti Seager’s body. As usual, Fiona was politely asked to step outside the crime scene, where Noah had stayed and searched with the team, looking for a potential link between Misti and Joel’s death. She’d sat in the truck the entire time and made some calls herself.
“The record can wait,” Noah said. “You said you checked the entire house, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“When were you going to tell me about the loaded gun in Shay’s bedside table?”
She blinked. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell you right in front of her.”
He cut her a look as cold as ice. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Yes. Geez. You just got in the car. It was loaded, although I’m assuming you know that now.”
He nodded. “Nine millimeter.”
“You think Joel was shot with a nine millimeter?”
“Lieutenant Stone will take the gun to ballistics, and I’ll have it compared with the bullet from Joel’s head. We’ll see, although my gut’s telling me no. Alright, now, tell me about her record, not her chest.”
“Alright, according to Ace—
“Ace?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Don’t ask how a Black Rose employee pulled Shay Swann’s records at midnight? Or don’t ask why this guy seems to be involved in every step I’ve taken since he saw me with you?”
She caught the slight attitude in his voice. Did he think something was going on with her and Ace? Or, more importantly, did he care?
“Anyway,” She avoided his loaded questions. “Swann has several drug charges, two DWI’s, theft—
“Theft?”
“Stole nail polish from Claire’s Cut and Curl.”
“Impressive.”
“Impressive are the colors she chose to swipe. Army green, Burnt brown, and Banshee black.”
He looked at her. “You asked what colors she stole?”
She shrugged. “Just curious. Tells me a little bit more about her.”
“What does Army green, Burnt brown, and Banshee black tell us about Miss Swann?”
“It tells me she’s bold, challenges authority and isn’t afraid to show it. She rebels and is proud of it. Did you see her long, black nails? Those make a statement. She possibly carries an ‘untouchable’ teenager-like mentality. This certainly aligns with her tattoos… especially the one above her areola.”
He rolled his eyes. “The untouchable mentality matches the booze and pill bottles we found.”
“There were some in Misti’s room, too, and more in the living room—ecstasy and, get this, Viagra.”
“Hell of a combination.”
She continued, “It also tells me that despite her means, she attempts to stay on trend, which means there’s a level of self-respect there, despite what your immediate read on her might be.”
“Confidence.”
“Yep. Kind of like when she pretty much invited you to her master room.”
He glanced over. “Didn’t know you saw that.”
“Yeah, sorry to interrupt.”
He ignored her quip. He was deep in detective mode, and she enjoyed watching his wheels turn.
“Yeah, that caught me as interesting, too. Here’s a woman with a federal agent in her kitchen and one of her first thoughts goes to sex.” He paused. “Confidence, and untouchable.”
“Two of the main traits I’ve seen in multiple serial killers.”
“Me, too. Okay, you were telling me about her charges…”
“Yes, so theft, DWI, and—you’ll like this—several indecent exposures.”
“When?”
“All of these charges are over the last ten years. Her indecents include getting down and dirty with some guy at the movie theater one night, flashing her tits to a bunch of high school boys after a football game, then again at the Black Crow Tavern—Chuck gave her a free shot before calling the cops.”
“See, now, I thought the indecents would involve a shoot with National Geographic.”
She smirked. “Because of the oblong areolas. Good job. That’s the first attempt at a joke I’ve heard from you.”
She thought she caught the flicker of a grin on his face, before turning serious again.
His phone lit, but he clicked it off. A woman calling, perhaps?
“Did you check with Shay’s alibi?” She asked.
“Zander did. Misti is his investigation. He’s running that show, I’m running Joel’s. Until, or if, there’s a solid link to Joel, it’s his.”
“But she’s on camera walking into Joel’s hotel room the night he was murdered.”
“Toward his hotel room. That’s it.”
Fiona nodded. “Okay, well, what do you know?”
“Shay’s story checks out. Her buddy, Cohen, verified that she did stay the night with him, but here’s the deal; he says a buddy of his came over and they started playing video games, and he doesn’t remember Shay being in the room with them during that time.”
“Wait. What? Who came over?”
“A guy named Danny Packer, a friend of Cohen’s. My gut says he came over to get some weed. You know the name?”
She searched her memory. “No. What time did Cohen and this other dude start playing?”
“He thinks around ten or so.”
“When did he remember seeing Shay again?”
“He thinks they went to bed around two, after Danny left.”
“So you’re telling me there’s four hours of Shay’s time unaccounted for the night her roommate was killed. And, Joel, for that matter.”
“Yep.”
Fiona chewed on her lower lip. “So three options here: Shay left Cohen’s, murdered Misti, then went back. Or, she went on a killing spree and murdered Misti and Joel. Or, we’re looking for a red, possibly two-door pricey car that purrs, whose owner possibly stole her keys and did the deed.”
“Unfortunately, a red car that purrs isn’t a search option in the DMV.”
She snorted. “No, I wouldn’t think so. Did Zander get the keychain?”
“Yes, they’ll swipe for prints.”
“There’s got to be a connection to Joel here, somewhere. What are the odds Misti was at his hotel the night he was murdered, then gets murdered herself?”
“Hell of a coincidence.”
“And you don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Damn straight.”
She paused. “Let’s assume Shay didn’t kill Misti. You believe she didn’t know her roommate was dead in the next room?”
Noah nodded. “Right. She seems the type that would have some guys on speed dial to take care of the body, if she found it. Why leave it there? Girl like her can’t afford to have a homicide on her plate, or the implication, at least.”
“Good point.” She paused. “Misti’s trip to the Capitol Building and Four Seasons keep jumping out to me. That’s one of the most expensive hotels in the state. Doesn’t fit. Not with Misti financially, or her lifestyle.”
“Or does it fit perfectly?”
She cocked her head.
Noah continued, “The girl had a gold and diamond compact in her purse, I estimate to be about fifteen-hundred bucks. A five-star hotel. A ticket to a local gala that costs a hundred bucks. A racy black thong, almost empty bottles of Viagra and a full bottle of X in the house. She’s got no traditional job, yet enough income to pay rent.”
Fiona’s eyes rounded. “You think she’s a hooker.”
He lifted a shoulder. “If the knock-off shoe fits.”
She nodded. “And her current choice of roommate, same pills, same questionable income, same sporadic hours, same racy lingerie…”
“And a three-hundred dollar bottle of wine in the kitchen.”
A minute ticked by as she contemplated the prostitute angle. “So, wait, could that be why Misti was possibly visiting Joel at the Towering Pines?”
“No way. No way was Joel the kind of guy to call a hooker.”
“You said he was lonely…”
“If every lonely man called a hooker, we’d have a new employment sector, Fiona.”
“So if he didn’t call a hooker, Joel rented a room in the seediest hotel in town, for what? A drug deal, possibly? Which would imply Joel was possibly buying drugs from her.”
“Then, what? Misti took him into the woods and shot him between the eyes? Then goes home and gets murdered herself?” Noah shook his head. “Who killed her, then? Doesn’t add up. Anyway, his autopsy will tell us if he was on drugs, but I’m telling you, Joel was straight-laced. Liked to drink, but that was it.”
“People change, Noah. When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“When he left my house, four days ago.”
Her eyes widened. “Four days ago?”
“Yeah. He’d been sleeping on my couch for a week after the FBI laid him off.”
Well, that was an interesting tidbit he’d left out. “Why’d they let him go?”
“He… his heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Not after his divorce. Four kids, messy deal. Gained weight, started under performing. When they made cutbacks, he was top of the list.”
She shook her head. “Always sad when kids are involved.”
Noah shifted in his seat, and she wondered why he’d never had kids with his wife.
“Bad blood with the boss?” She asked.
“No. We’d all gone out for drinks days earlier.”
“So Joel lives with you for a while eleven years ago and again recently, then turns up with a bullet in his head in Devil’s Den.”
“Yep.”
“Did he say anything about what he was up to?”
“No. He was just bunking on my couch, temporarily. We didn’t see each other much. He was there during the day, when I wasn’t, and gone most nights when I got home. Wasn’t like last time. Didn’t hang out and drink together. The only deep conversation we had was about three minutes one night. I could tell he was worried about money, and he commented that he was lonely.”
She paused. “Hey,” she looked at him. “Did you notice the I Voted sticker on Shay and Misti’s cabinet?”
“Yeah.”
“Seemed… like it didn’t fit in that house, ya know?”
“Agreed.”
She sat up and angled herself toward him. “Joel was an FBI Agent, who lived in DC. Misti visited the Capitol Building one week ago, and had a ticket to one of the biggest charity galas in the state, and an I voted sticker hung proudly in the kitchen.” She felt the little spurt of adrenaline she got every time she was onto something. “There’s a common thread there.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Politicians.”
“Exactly, and I’m pretty sure this year’s gala was put on by Senator Norris. It’s always a thinly veiled political event. Would be interesting to know if Joel went last night.”
“Already got a call in. I considered that the moment I saw Misti’s ticket.”
“Good.” Her mind was racing a mile a minute now. “You said Joel was worried about money. Wonder how deep that goes.”
“Checking that is first on my to-do list.” He leaned forward. “Turn here.”
She turned onto a narrow dirt road and clicked on her high beams.
“My car’s about a mile down, on the left, just before Bronx’s house.”
Her truck bumped over the road, and the cab fell silent. The moon cut through the trees, casting shadows across the road. Her mind drifted from dead bodies to the kiss they’d shared so long ago. After she dropped him off at his car, would that be the last time she’d see him? She didn’t even know where he was staying, or how long he intended to. Would this be the last time she’d ever see the lips that gave her the best damn kiss of her life?
“Turn here,” he said, breaking the silence and her racy thoughts.
She turned onto a barely-there dirt road, or trail, more like it.
“Cut the headlights.”
She turned off the lights. Shadows from the trees danced over the hood of the truck.
“I can’t see a thing.”
“The road is clear, just stay straight. Your running lights will bounce off my taillights.”
She gripped the steering wheel and pressed on.
“Did you see anything out here?”
“There’s an old shed past the tree line by his house with a half-dead marijuana bush in it. Other than that, no. Stop here.”
Her headlights reflected off the taillights of his rental car just ahead. She shoved the truck into park, turned off the engine and little nerves tickled her stomach. She didn’t want him to leave.
He sat unmoving as if he was waiting for her to say something… Or was about to say something himself.
“I think I’ll take a quick lap around Bronx’s house before heading home.”
“Pretty late to be sneaking around the woods by yourself.”
She shot him a please look, although she could barely see him across the cab.
“Why don’t you just head home and get some sleep.” He said.
“I slept all day. Besides, seeing…”
“I get it.”
A moment of silence ticked by. That damn kiss. She had no idea how much awkwardness could linger from something that happened ten years earlier. The fact that he hadn’t been married put an entirely new spin on the moment. Was he truly attracted to her? Had he been for some time? She’d just assumed it was an early mid-life crisis—the seven-year itch of marriage, or something. That he would’ve kissed any newbie pinned on a mat after an erotic dance of hand-to-hand combat in the gym. But he wasn’t married, he was single, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to that moment than she’d spent the last ten years wondering.
“Well, thanks for the lift.” He abruptly got out.
She watched him walk to his car. God, he was sexy. Dark. Mysterious. So much behind those brooding eyes.
She grabbed her Glock from the console and got out. A cool breeze swept across her skin, rustling the leaves above. A million bugs chirped in the darkness. The moon, almost full, twinkled through the thick overbrush.
She stepped up to his blue sedan, which was nestled between two massive pines, using the natural environment as camouflage. She noticed a small suitcase in the back as he kicked a limb away from the tire.
She leaned up against the door. “Not a bad rental.” Nice, Fi. Nice small talk at almost one in the morning after working a homicide. She wanted to ask how long he was staying, what his plans were for tomorrow, but couldn’t force the words out.
He stepped over and stared down at her. “Powder blue wouldn’t have been my first choice.” His voice was low, deep. Thin shadows slashed across his face like war paint, dancing in the breeze.
“No.” She said in almost a whisper. “Doesn’t fit you.”
Something flashed in his eyes as he searched her face. She knew that look. The heat. Desire. He inched closer.
Her stomach exploded with butterflies.
His gaze trailed down her to lips.
Her heart started to race.
She shifted, realizing her back was against his car.
He trapped her with his arms, resting his palms on the top of the car, on either side of her shoulders.
She licked her lips, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
He leaned in, she closed her eyes—
Warm breath whispered in her ear, �
��Get a better pair of shoes before you go sneaking around the woods next to a drug dealer’s home.” He pulled away. “Go home, Fiona.”
Her eyes opened, her mouth slacked. What? That was it?
He reached past her and opened the door.
Stunned, she stepped away, unable to find a single word.
He slipped into his powder blue sedan and silently backed out of the woods.
CHAPTER 9
Fiona’s phone rang as she scaled the white steps that led up to Graves Laboratory—one of the top forensics labs in the country, and one of the most upscale, beautiful buildings she’d ever seen, especially in the early morning light. She’d been waved through security, thankful for the exceptional relationship Black Rose had with the facility. And it was a relationship she planned to exploit this morning.
She yanked her phone from her purse and paused next to the sparkling fountain at the top of the steps. She glanced at the time before answering—7:07 a.m.
“Monreau.”
“Fi, it’s Ace.”
“You’re up early today. Your latest bed partner sneak out already?”
“No, she’s still there. Snores like a damn foghorn.”
Fiona laughed and turned toward the sun, letting the sunbeams warm her face. Clouds shaded the distance. It was a typical Spring morning—chilly and unpredictable.
“Oh, to be the most desired bachelor in Devil’s Den,” she said.
“Don’t you forget it, sister. Anyway, I got that info you asked for.”
“The list of attendees at the gala?”
“That’s the one. There’s two lists, really. The list of people that purchased tickets, and the list of people who actually went. Got the top donors, too.”
“How the hell did you get that?”
He snorted. “Child’s play. And you never ask. That’s the deal.”
She cocked an eyebrow. Yes, that was the deal. The Knight sisters hired Ace not only for his IQ but for his superior hacking skills, which came in handy more times than they could count. And he was paid very well for it.
“Alright, thanks. Send it to my—
“Already in your inbox.”
“You’re awesome.”
“My pleasure. You on your way to the office?”
“Making a stop at Graves, first.”
“What’s going on there?”
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