Hunter watched her with piqued interest. “Do you?” he asked.
Kenzie drew herself up indignantly, as if he had just insulted her.
“I don’t have time to spend on those kinds of websites. If I have any extra time, I’ll spend it reading a good book.”
His mouth curved as he looked at her. That, he thought, would be a colossal waste on her part. “Yeah, me, too.”
Chapter 11
“You know, I kind of missed the days when if you needed something or wanted something, you had to physically go to a brick-and-mortar building to get it,” Kenzie said as she pulled up in an industrial parking lot. This particular parking lot was located in the next county. The building that was the focus of their attention had taken them the better part of two hours to pinpoint and find.
“You mean like groceries?” Hunter asked, curious as he came around to her side of the vehicle.
“I mean like anything,” Kenzie stressed. She looked up at the twelve-story office building that housed a variety of businesses, including the one that ran the dating website they were about to investigate. “There was a time when you could look up a place in the phone book, jot down the address and, armed with a trusty, well-worn map, find that place.”
“‘Trusty, well-worn map?’” Hunter echoed. “Just how old are you, Kenzie?” he asked her, amused as well as surprised by the sentiment she had just expressed.
She gave Hunter a withering look. “I have an old soul,” she informed him.
“Apparently,” he commented, following her up the front steps to the building’s entrance. “But I actually kind of get what you mean. The internet has managed to bring us closer together and further apart at the same time,” he observed. “Human interaction isn’t a priority—unless you want it to be.”
Kenzie raised an eyebrow, surprised at his comment. “That’s deep—for you,” she added. Turning on her heel, she pulled open the entrance door. “Well, let’s go ‘interact’ with the CEO of Second Time Around,” she said.
Once inside, they headed for the three elevators that were standing side by side. She glanced at the directory to double-check that the office hadn’t been moved to another floor. It hadn’t. The office that contained the dating service was on the ninth floor. Room number 905.
Hunter pressed for the elevator. The one to their extreme right was already there, and it opened its door the moment Hunter had pushed the up button.
“Maybe they can help you find the woman of your dreams,” Kenzie said as they got on.
“The woman of my dreams wouldn’t be wasting her time filling out forms online,” Hunter told her. He slanted a glance in her direction.
* * *
Kevin Campbell looked much too young to be able to empathize with the people who turned to his “over fifty” dating service for help in finding companionship. He also looked none too friendly when he came to the glass door in response to their repeated knocking.
Opening the door only a crack when they wouldn’t go away despite his gestures for them to do just that, he informed them coldly, “I’m sorry, we’re not hiring just now.”
“That’s good because we’re not here about a job opportunity,” Hunter told the preppy-looking CEO.
“We don’t take walk-ins either,” Campbell told them. “You’ll have to fill out a profile online like everyone else.” He paused, actually looking at them for the first time. “You two are rather young-looking for Second Time Around. You looking into this for one of your parents?” Campbell asked, his almost black eyes moving like restless pinballs from one person in his doorway to the other. “Same rules apply. Do the profile online.”
He began to close the door, but Hunter pushed his shoulder against it, making it immobile.
“What the—”
In response, Kenzie and Hunter took out their IDs and badges simultaneously, holding them up for Campbell’s benefit.
“We’d like to get some information about someone who did just that,” Kenzie told the man.
Campbell sighed, then stepped away from the door.
Because they were out in the open with a dozen pairs of eyes looking their way, Campbell motioned for them to follow him. “Come into my office.”
“Sure thing,” Hunter said amicably, following behind Campbell. Kenzie was right at his side.
Campbell’s inner office was a glorified cubbyhole with little more charm. Closing his door to separate them from the outer office, he told his new visitors, “I’m afraid I can’t release any information. It’s all private and privileged,” he informed them like a highly paid lawyer.
Kenzie frowned and gave it another try. “How about if we tell you that we believe that someone who filled out one of those online profiles was killed by someone else who had filled out one of your online profiles. Does that make it less private now?” she asked. Her voice grew stern. “We need to take a look at your files.”
Kevin crossed his arms before his chest, digging his heels in. “Do you have a warrant?” he challenged. His smug manner indicated that he knew they didn’t.
“No,” Hunter answered. “But we have something better than that. We have word of mouth as well as contact with several very popular bloggers. If you make us go back for a warrant, I can guarantee that your little dating service will go the way of the dial phone and Myspace faster than you can say the word archaic.”
Campbell puffed up his rather small chest. “You’re bluffing.”
Kenzie added her voice to Hunter’s. “Only one way to find out,” she told the dating site CEO with a frosty smile.
Campbell’s face clouded over. “Whose profile are you looking for?” he asked grudgingly, dropping his voice as he sat down behind the computer on his desk.
“John Kurtz and anyone who responded to his profile,” Kenzie told him.
The scowl on Campbell’s face only intensified. “This might take time,” he told them belligerently.
“Lucky for us, we’ve got nowhere else to be,” Hunter cheerfully assured the angry CEO.
Looking like a man who was struggling to hang on to his temper and keep from saying things that would only make the situation worse, Campbell began to type. A few moments later, he turned his monitor around so that it faced the two detectives.
“This the guy?” he asked.
Kenzie leaned in to get a better look. The photograph on the website matched the one that Kurtz’s daughter had brought in. Obviously the man hadn’t taken many pictures, she thought.
Nodding, Kenzie said, “That’s him.”
“Now we need you to print all the information you have on everyone whom he connected with online through your website,” Hunter instructed.
“I have no way of knowing that,” Campbell protested vehemently.
Hunter wasn’t buying it. “Sure you do,” he contradicted. “This is the internet age. Every keystroke struck using your website is out there somewhere and you’re aware of it.” Hunter took a step closer and loomed over the CEO. “So stop wasting our time by playing dumb and get us those profiles—or we’ll be forced to shut down your business and confiscate your computers so that our own computer wizard can access the information you’re attempting to withhold.”
Campbell glared at the two police detectives invading his business, but after a second, he angrily began typing again, almost pounding on the keys.
Not trusting him, Hunter circled around the man in order to watch what came on the screen.
Campbell stopped typing. “I can’t think with you looking over my shoulder,” he complained.
Hunter wasn’t about to back off. “Sure you can,” he told the belligerent CEO. “Just think of it as showing off for an audience.”
Campbell muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but his fingers began moving across the keyboard again.
A couple of minutes later, the prin
ter against the back wall in the corner came to life. Pages connected to the profiles that Campbell was pulling up began to materialize.
Kenzie was on her feet in an instant, crossing over to the printer. She gathered together the pages that the printer was spitting out. After several more minutes went by, the printer went silent.
Kenzie looked over toward Campbell. “That’s it?” she asked.
“What do you want me to tell you?” Campbell asked, raising his angular shoulders in a frustrated shrug. “The guy’s shy.”
“He’s also dead,” Hunter informed the arrogant CEO.
“Then you weren’t just kidding when you tried to get me to give you the files?” Campbell cried.
“Nope. He’s dead,” Hunter repeated. “As in no longer about to access anything online.”
Campbell jumped up from his desk, his entire manner defensive. “You’re not saying that you think my website has something to do with this Kurtz guy being dead, are you?”
“We’re looking into all possibilities,” Hunter replied, sounding as calm as Campbell was agitated.
“We want to talk to anyone who had contact with Mr. Kurtz before he was killed,” Kenzie added.
The added information only managed to horrify the CEO further. “Now he’s not just dead, he was killed?” Campbell cried, his voice going up a full octave at the end of his question.
Kenzie took out her phone and searched for the picture of the victim’s head and hands as they appeared on Rayburn’s table. Because arrogant people like Campbell irritated her no end, she held the photo up for him to view.
“You tell me,” she said to Campbell.
The color drained from Campbell’s face. The next second, Campbell covered his mouth with both hands like a man struggling not to throw up.
His face was even paler when he finally managed to get control over himself. Taking in a deep breath, Campbell dropped his hands from his mouth. When he stared at the two detectives, his eyes were watery.
“There has to be some other explanation,” he insisted, his voice cracking.
“We’re open to suggestions,” Kenzie told him magnanimously.
Campbell’s breathing had grown shallower. “You’re the police. You’re supposed to have the suggestions,” he retorted desperately.
Hunter exchanged glances with Kenzie. It was obvious that he thought it was time to go.
“Thanks for your help. We’ll be back if we think of anything else,” Hunter told the trembling CEO.
“Don’t worry, we’ll let ourselves out,” Kenzie said to Campbell.
Glancing back at the website CEO, she saw the man reaching into his bottom drawer and taking out a bottle of what looked like Scotch. She almost felt sorry for Campbell.
Almost.
When they got back into Kenzie’s car, it was growing dark. They had put in a very long day.
“It’s getting late,” Hunter said. “Why don’t we pick this up in the morning.”
Kenzie pointed her vehicle back toward the precinct. “Hot date tonight?” she asked him.
Hunter refused to rise to the bait. “Yeah. With my shower. It’s been an exceptionally long day and I’d kind of like to wash the stench off—if it’s okay with you,” he added, glancing in her direction.
Kenzie wasn’t oblivious to the sarcasm and she supposed she had it coming.
“Sure, wash away,” she told him. Pausing, she waited a beat, then said, “You did a good job back there, getting Campbell to cooperate.”
A flippant response rose to Hunter’s lips, but then he thought better of it and accepted the olive branch Kenzie was extending to him.
“Thanks.” Hunter waited a couple of minutes, then decided that if she was behaving like a human being, he had nothing to lose by asking, “After we clock out, you want to stop somewhere for dinner?”
Kenzie could feel herself tensing. “I’ve got dinner waiting for me in my refrigerator.”
Hunter laughed softly. “Of course you do,” he commented matter-of-factly, then shrugged. “I’ll take a rain check, then.”
She felt as if Brannigan was attempting to corner her. “I didn’t offer one,” she said as she pulled up into the police station.
“I know,” Hunter said cheerfully. “It was implied,” he told her.
Kenzie got out of the car and stared at him. The man was unbelievable.
“In what universe?” she asked.
But Hunter merely smiled at her. “You know the answer to that one,” he said. Turning on his heel, he began walking toward the police station.
“No, I don’t,” she protested.
She found herself walking behind him as they went up the stairs. The man really could move quickly when he wanted to, she thought grudgingly.
* * *
“You sleep here last night?” Hunter asked when he walked into the back room the following morning.
He would have bet that he had beaten everyone else in, but apparently not, he mused, setting the paper tray with its four covered containers of coffee down on the table.
Kenzie was already at the table, her laptop opened. She was reviewing the three profiles that Campbell had been forced to surrender to them, along with the one that John Kurtz had filled out.
She’d made notations on each of the pages. Something new had struck her every time she went over the profiles. When Brannigan walked in, she looked up briefly, then deliberately went back to what she was doing.
She also ignored his question.
“No,” Hunter said, pretending to reconsider his question, “that’s a change of clothes you have on so I guess you didn’t sleep here after all. But you were still here when I left last night and you’re here now—and this is early for me,” he emphasized. He waited for Kenzie to say something. When she still didn’t, he asked another question. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
She finally glanced up at Brannigan. She didn’t like being questioned. “I don’t need much sleep to get by,” she replied.
“Even that mechanical rabbit in those commercials needs new batteries put in every once in a while,” Hunter pointed out.
She frowned, setting the pages down on the table in front of her. “I don’t need any batteries put in,” she told him.
“Maybe you’d feel better if you did,” Hunter quipped, then asked, “Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed today, Kenzie?”
It was like he had pushed a button. She didn’t like him using her name. It made him sound as if they were on intimate footing and they weren’t. And she certainly didn’t like him getting personal.
“I told you not to call me that, Brannigan,” she snapped.
“What’s wrong—Cavanaugh?” he asked, inserting her last name as an afterthought.
Aggravated, Kenzie threw the printouts that Campbell had given them on the floor in disgust. “What makes you think that there’s something wrong?”
“I’m a detective. I pick up on these things,” he said dryly. “Now, why do you look like someone who’s about to throw a fit?”
Kenzie blew out a breath. “See these profiles?” she asked, gesturing to the papers.
He forced himself to look at the papers on the floor and not the increasingly gorgeous woman in front of him. This was not the time to allow his hormones to get carried away. It might never be. “What about them?”
“They’re fake,” she accused.
He shrugged in response, which didn’t improve her mood. “So somebody padded their profile. I hear people do that—”
“No,” she interrupted, then repeated more adamantly, “They’re fake. These three women don’t exist.”
That got his attention. He bent down and picked up one of the sheets. He looked it over. “What do you mean they don’t exist?”
“All their pictures were lifted from one of those general
photo pools you can find online. I looked up each of these women’s names, and if they have a social media page—and only two did—the photographs don’t match the names. Someone used their names to create different personae.”
“Why?”
She shook her head. “As bait. To fulfill a fantasy, to lure an unsuspecting male into their web, to boost their egos. I don’t know. But whatever correspondence that John Kurtz had with these three so-called women has been erased. It could all be innocent or it could be part of a more intricate plot, but without anything else to go on, we might never find out.”
Hunter gathered up the remaining pages and rose to his feet. “Let me take these down to Valri and see if she can piece something together.”
She had to admit that she was surprised by his initiative. She was also surprised at his suggestion.
“You have a death wish?” she asked Hunter.
“No,” he freely denied, “but I do have this overwhelming need to find out if any of these so-called women is somehow involved in John Kurtz’s death and dismemberment.”
Kenzie rose from her chair and he looked at her quizzically. He had the impression that she had settled in. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going with you to Valri’s lab. I am not about to allow you to waltz into the lion’s den by yourself,” she informed him.
Hunter grinned at her in response.
“Now what?”
Hunter’s eyes crinkled as his smile widened. “I knew I’d get you to care.”
She rolled her eyes at his response. “Don’t push it, Brannigan,” she warned.
Hunter raised one hand as if he was about to take a pledge.
“This is me, not pushing it.” And then he nodded at the coffee containers. “Don’t forget to take your coffee with you—maybe you can use it as a peace offering,” he suggested.
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