“You’re not being punished,” Phil said, stopping her before she could go any further with her head of steam. “I’m treating you exactly like I used to handle my field staff. I need to be sure you take a break from this so your approach and thoughts stay fresh enough to pick up on things. You bring something the people upstairs don’t have, and that’s your ability to see the details that others skip over entirely. If you’re exhausted, you’ll miss those little things, and you could get hurt.”
When he put it like that, it was hard for Ellie to argue against it. “So, then, I’m back on Wednesday like normal?”
“Mostly,” Phil agreed. “I’m hoping by then, we’ll have better details from the toxicology screens on the victims. The muscle relaxants in their system were standard prescription strength and quality, so the initial screen didn’t push any more than that, but I had them rerun it a little differently to see if there were any additional compounds that may have been present, even in trace amounts, that the prescription drugs may have masked at first glance. Sometimes, these drugs act differently when mixed in a single cocktail instead of taken separately. Plus, I’ve asked them to look over the latest body again to search for needle marks or any kind of sign that might indicate something was given to them that might have made the strangulation easier to pull off.”
“You think drugs may have played a part in the deaths of these girls?” Ellie asked, wondering why no one would have seen it before.
“I’m saying we need to know one way or the other, and until this next batch of tests are complete, we don’t have a full picture. The cause of death was so clear, there wasn’t much motivation for a medical examiner to keep searching. At best, the lab work on this has been hit or miss. If there’s nothing to be found, then we can move forward exactly as we’ve planned, but if there is something there, then the profile of our killer might change. If you’re going to be dangled out there as bait, I want to be sure you don’t meet the same end as the worms I use for that purpose on the weekend.”
***
Thankful to have plenty to do to keep from focusing on that image, Ellie buried herself in work until an hour past her usual quitting time. Just as she opened her car door, she heard the smooth voice of her apartment neighbor calling out to her.
“Yo, Ellie.”
“Hey, Phillips,” she said as she turned, hoping she didn’t look as tired as she felt.
“Long day?” he asked.
“You could say that.”
“You know what would help?” he asked innocently.
“A long soak in the tub and an early turn in?”
“Not what I was planning on suggesting, but if you insist, I’ll be glad to go along with you,” he teased, leaning in as though there was a chance she’d ever share her tub with him.
Ellie gave him a half-hearted shove away, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling in the process.
“What I was going to suggest before you distracted me with your idea, was a glass of wine and a good meal,” Phillips offered, appearing to be serious.
“You’re just saying that because you want me to cook so you can mooch off my dinner,” she replied flatly. Although, now that he’d brought it up, she was hungry.
“I’m hurt that you’d suggest such a thing, but if you don’t want to eat alone, I’m more than willing to keep you company to show my support of a fellow agent,” he answered sweetly.
“I’m picking up Chinese food on the way home and eating alone,” she told him, hoping she sounded definite enough that he wouldn’t keep pushing for an invitation.
“Well, that’s…disappointing.” He gave in and backed away. “But if you change your mind, I’m a big fan of fried rice.”
“Good night, Phillips,” Ellie called out as she got into her car.
Despite his many flaws and his inability to fend for himself when it came to food, Ellie couldn’t help but laugh about his persistent antics. And when she gave her order to the nice lady behind the counter, she found herself adding fried rice. She glared at the little white box with the metal handle that contained the food Phillips had requested, as though it had jumped in her car uninvited.
When she climbed to the top of the stairs at her apartment, she heard the clumping of boots following her up and knew her neighbor was right behind her. Thankfully, she turned around to look at him before telling him to stop following her and noticed his hands were full of two tall take-out cups from Mocha Joe’s. He pushed one forward, indicating it was hers.
“Just hang onto it,” she told him, putting her key into the lock of her apartment. “We’ll have the drinks with our dinner.”
Maybe the time off tomorrow would give her a chance to catch up on her rest. If she was too tired to fight off a harmless guy next door, she didn’t have any hope of escaping a killer.
Chapter Eighteen
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Anne looked horrified at the dress Ellie was holding for consideration. “I can’t believe you’re the swinging single chick and I’m the old married lady.”
“What’s wrong with this dress?” Ellie wondered.
“Nothing, if you’re attending a funeral or want to be left alone by men in general,” Anne tried to explain.
“But you said every girl needs a little black dress.” Ellie shook the hanger as she spoke. “This is black, it’s above the knee, and it doesn’t have long sleeves.”
“You’re capable of stunning somebody with how you look...” Anne rolled her eyes. “If you don’t start taking this seriously, I’m calling your mother and telling her you need contemporary club wear to catch a guy’s eye.”
Despite the fact that it should have offended her to have her mother thrown around as a threat, Ellie couldn’t help but admit it would make this easier, and she knew Janice was more qualified to dress her for this particular objective. “Do you think she’d do it?”
“Probably,” Anne agreed, “but she’d insist on you going with her to every store and trying on things like a life-sized dress-up doll.”
Ellie shivered at the idea of being paraded around at her mother’s whim. “Keep looking,” was her only reply as she put the frumpy thing she was holding back on the rack.
Anne held up a shiny red dress that made Ellie squint when she looked at it, causing a fast veto. “I want to look eye-catching, but I can’t stand out enough to blind anybody.”
“You know, you would look great in any of these.”
Anne waved over the rack of what Macy’s was considering party dresses. In Ellie’s opinion, many of them could double as career wear if you happened to be a street walker, but she was trying to keep an open mind, since this kind of thing was never interesting to her. She preferred to have clothes that made her feel good and highlighted what she considered to be her assets. All of these made her feel on display, which meant putting it all out there for anybody to judge.
“Here.” Anne handed her three dresses that were virtually the same, except they were blue, red, and black. All of them had thin straps at the shoulders and would hit her thigh high enough that she might need a different kind of holster to hide her gun for the evening. “Try these on, and if they fit, you should be covered for this weekend.”
“I can’t wear those,” Ellie quickly pointed out. “There’s not enough at the top to let me wear a bra, and I can assure you I’m not going jiggling around on a dance floor without one.”
The two women looked at each other, almost daring the other to try and dispute that fact.
It was Anne that cracked first and started to laugh. “Come on and get these, then we can start the real torture by trying to get you the right support.”
“I’ll have a team at the Bureau providing support,” Ellie replied, taking the hangers without hiding her disgust at the idea of wearing so little in public.
“You’re brilliant and completely dense at the same time,” Anne told her. “In some respects, I enjoy the distinct sides, but at times like this, it makes me want to thump you
.”
“You can’t,” Ellie said, sticking her tongue out. “It would be considered accosting a federal agent.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Anne argued. “It would be considered knocking some sense into the federal agent, who clearly isn’t spending my tax dollars well because she isn’t capable of efficiently picking out clothes for an undercover operation.”
Ellie couldn’t come up with anything witty to say to that, so she brought them back to the point of their sidebar. “What kind of support?”
“Come on.” Anne motioned for Ellie to follow her. “Let’s just assume those fit, and we’ll start in on shoes to match and then underwear that will work.”
“Calling Janice is sounding better by the second,” Ellie mumbled.
“You say that now, but when your mom starts telling you how cute a bra and panty set looks on you, you’ll be wishing you’d stuck with me,” Anne wisely reminded her.
“Lead on.” Resigned to her fate, Ellie allowed her most trusted friend to guide her through the rest of her wardrobe to be ready for her weekend as bait for a serial killer.
***
By the time she got home, Ellie was exhausted, but she knew the hard part was just beginning. She had a few hours to transform herself from the jeans and T-shirt she’d comfortably worn all day, to a woman capable of turning heads in a meat market known as Pulses. The bar and dance club was popular with young professionals, and the powers upstairs thought she had the greatest chance of luring out the killer there, if he was going to target her at all.
They knew Yoga for Life was in town for the weekend, and since the other murders occurred on Friday nights, the general consensus was that tonight was their greatest chance to catch the person responsible for taking the lives of the young women. That was the motivation that got Ellie moving, hoping that Janice had been right in telling her a little effort was all it would take to turn heads. She was about to put in a lot of effort and hope it caught the attention of the one head she needed to turn—whoever it might be.
Jose had told her that her hair was made to style, so she ran some gel through it after her shower and put it on curlers in the hope it would take. Sporting her less-than-glamorous look, she tried to figure out how to paint on a face that would bring out her eyes without crossing the line and turning her into a potential woman for hire at night.
The ringing of her cell phone saved her from having to pick between gray blue and steel gray eye liner. They looked identical to her, but Anne had assured her were vastly different.
“You don’t have to do this,” the voice broke in before she even finished her hello.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” Ellie decided not to play along easily. “I was about to get dressed, so if that’s what you’re referring to, I can assure you that I do have to do it.”
“I swear you’re changing so much lately, I hardly know how to talk to you,” Agent Peters admitted.
“Just tell me the reason you’re calling.”
“I’m worried about you going out into the field tonight. What if the killer shows up?”
“Then we’ll catch him, and I don’t have to go through this night after night with nothing to show for it but a closet full of dresses I’ll never wear again.”
“Look, you could put it off this weekend to give yourself more time to get ready,” he attempted to advise. “Then you could tell them you want me on your coverage team.”
“I already have a team in place from people here,” she pointed out.
“But we’ve worked together for a while, and you know you can trust me to have your back,” he pushed, trying to make his case.
Not entirely sure she agreed, she let it go. “Are you suggesting this so you can be involved in taking this guy down?”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be in on it,” Agent Peters conceded. “But I’m more concerned for your safety.”
Even without seeing his face to try to get a read on whether or not he was lying, she still didn’t believe the last part was his primary motivation. Ellie wouldn’t go so far as to say he meant her harm, but she didn’t believe keeping her safe was at the forefront of his generous offer to watch her back.
“Even if I wanted to put this off, it’s too late,” she told him, glad to have her orders to hide behind in this case. “I have to report to the club in just over an hour. There’s no way for me to put it off for a different weekend, because the primary suspect is in town now, and according to his schedule online, he won’t be in town again for several months.”
“But—”
Before he could argue any further, Ellie cut him off. “I’ve got another call, and this conversation isn’t going anywhere. Goodbye, Agent Peters.” With that abrupt closing, she disconnected the call and answered the next one without checking to see who it was.
“Ellie,” a difficult-to-place, but familiar voice came through. “It’s Luka, from Yoga for Life. How are you?”
“I’m great, actually. How are you?” Not realizing he had her cell phone number, she was shocked to hear the voice of the very person the FBI wanted to find her this evening.
“I am in Virginia for a conference. Most of tomorrow and Sunday, I am going to be teaching, but I am free tonight, and even though it is last minute I was hoping you might be free,” Luka explained.
Figuring it would make her job so much easier if she could control the time and place so that her exposure to the loud music and potential uncomfortable dance partners would be reduced. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’m still an hour away from Richmond, and since I am no doubt disturbing your Friday night, I believe you should pick the place and I will meet you there.”
Ellie took a minute to consider what was being said and decided meeting him in a bar might not be necessary after all. “I know you said coffee was taboo, but there is a great place to pick up a cup that would give us a chance to catch up without too much noise.”
Luka let out a breath. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that. Usually when I meet students like this, they suggest bars or clubs, and I do not like going to those types of places. A quiet coffee shop would be perfect.” He paused for a second before adding, “Most of those places offer a variety of herbal teas, which would be equally acceptable.”
“Look, you were the one suggesting if I could approach yoga the way most people make good pots of coffee, then I’d be okay. I’m considering this research based on your guidance,” she teased, hating the fact that it felt like she was about to betray the man who had helped her last weekend. She wanted to catch the killer, but she still hoped it wasn’t Luka, even if that meant going back to square one for a suspect.
Ellie gave him the address for Mocha Joe’s and chatted for a few minutes, agreeing to meet him at nine o’clock. Thankfully, she hadn’t cut the receipts off the dresses she and Anne had purchased that morning, because it looked as though they could all be returned. There was no way she was going to show up dressed like that in front of Joe.
As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she realized that may not have been the best spot. What if something went wrong? Would Joe be mad at her for bringing trouble to his low-key place of business?
Quickly, she pulled all the rollers from her hair and used her fingers to comb out the initial tight curls. She tightened the belt on the robe she was wearing and stepped into the hall to knock on her neighbor’s door.
When it opened, he covered his surprised expression quickly before saying, “No wonder you don’t usually work in the field... Your sense of timing stinks.”
“What are you talking about, Phillips?”
“An hour before your sting, and you’re coming to me in nothing but a robe… I’m all about riding the waves of adrenaline, but this seems a little out of character for you.”
Leave it to him to take her attempt at soliciting advice and turn it into something sexist. “Shut up.”
“All right, what do you need?�
�� He dropped the playful act, giving Ellie the chance to talk.
“I just got a call from Luka—the suspect—and he asked if we could meet somewhere. Without thinking it through, I suggested Mocha Joe’s. Do you think Joe will be mad that I’m basically setting up his business to be the scene of an attempted murder?”
Phillips’s eyes moved up, as though the spot just above her head had a thought bubble giving him information that she hadn’t spoken aloud. “It’s perfect as far as a place to meet goes. We can secure it. There’s only one entrance for you to come and go by because the back door through the kitchen can’t be accessed without a key to get behind the counter. Joe’s crazy about hygiene and put in that safeguard when he moved in. It’s the best play we’ve got tonight, so we have to go with it.”
“But what about Joe?” Ellie pressed the point.
“He’ll be fine.” Phillips seemed so sure. “We’re not going to let this turn into an attempted murder, and he’d love the chance to see you in action. It was a good call on where to go—especially under the gun.”
“He does know this isn’t usually the kind of action I see, right?” Ellie felt the need to clarify.
“Relax,” Phillips said before changing the subject. “But you should probably get changed. I know the big wigs told you to dress differently than you usually would, but I don’t think this is what they had in mind.”
Pretending to be offended, she quickly moved back to her apartment, not trying to keep the door from closing with a bang. Phillips might be a bit of a child, but Ellie had no doubts he would easily manage the split focus tonight of bringing down a killer and keeping her safe. A month ago, she never would have believed that she’d pick Phillips over Agent Peters, but when the opportunity came up and she’d had to decide with her gut, it wasn’t even a difficult decision.
With that settled, she moved back into her room and pulled out her best pair of jeans. They weren’t exactly what she’d call her most comfortable, but they did seem to accent her curves. Adding a pale silk tank top and covering it with a matching cardigan that only had the bottom buttons hooked, she felt comfortable and hopefully attractive enough to hold the attention of a man who claimed to want a natural lifestyle. It also gave her an open neckline to highlight the fact she was wearing the medallion he’d given her at the end of their time together last weekend.
A Killer Cup of Joe Page 22
