Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  Her head jerked up. “Is he finding women there?”

  “We don’t know that for sure. Just checking out a few things.”

  “Darcy...” Kyra shot a glance at Jake to make sure he didn’t have any objections to her asking a question. He gave a slight nod. “Do you know that Marissa had an empty coffee cup from Uncommon Grounds in her car when they found it?”

  Darcy’s gaze darted from her to Jake. “It doesn’t surprise me. Marissa drank a lot of coffee. She had some crazy hours and fueled up on caffeine. Do you think the cup belonged to someone else and not her?”

  “No, just wondering if she ever went to the Uncommon Grounds on Melrose.”

  “Not that I know of. She usually got her coffee from fast-food drive-throughs. If she had a cup from Uncommon Grounds, that probably didn’t happen too often.”

  Jake’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he snuck a peek. His stoic face betrayed just one telltale sign—a muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched.

  He stood up abruptly. “As always, Darcy, if you remember anything else, give us a call and follow up with Kyra if you need help coping.”

  “Thanks. I think I’ll be better once I move out of here.”

  Kyra stood up beside Jake and felt his body vibrating next to hers. “Are you okay by yourself now?”

  “I have a couple of friends coming over to help me move. I’ll be fine. Thanks—and I hope you find this guy.”

  Outside the apartment, Kyra turned to Jake. “What is it?”

  “Something important from the task force. Someone may have seen our guy.” He held out his phone. “I’ll call Billy when I get to the car.”

  She had no intention of missing out on this message, so she dogged his footsteps to his car. He didn’t even blink when she got into the passenger seat beside him.

  He placed the call and put the phone on Speaker. Billy picked up on the first ring. “J-Mac, aren’t you in Reseda at Marissa’s apartment?”

  “Just finished up there. Whaddya got?” He cleared his throat. “Kyra’s listening.”

  “Perfect. You may need her for this. Once we released Gracie Cho’s name today, the task force got a call from a working girl in Hollywood. Two nights ago, she picked up a john who seemed all hopped up on something. They got down to business and the dude had some kinky requests—nothing she hasn’t dealt with before, but he did call her Gracie. She didn’t think much about it until she saw the name of the victim today. I think we just might have our first sighting of The Copycat Player.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jake slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “He slipped up. The bastard slipped up. Give me her info and we’ll get right out there.”

  Kyra grabbed a pen from the console and an envelope from her purse. As Billy recited the name and location of the witness, Kyra jotted it down.

  Jake ended the call and cranked on the engine. “Sounds promising as hell.”

  “That might explain why the killer didn’t rape any of his victims.” Kyra’s knee bounced up and down.

  “Didn’t want to leave his DNA, but got his kicks with hookers after the murders to satisfy his sick lust.”

  She clamped her hands on her knees and curled her fingers into the material of her slacks. “If he did this after murdering Gracie, he probably did it after the other killings.”

  “Maybe Sunny can introduce us to some of her friends.” Jake hightailed it to Hollywood and cruised down Hollywood Boulevard, a little tawdry in the light of day.

  Kyra squinted at the signs. “She really wants to meet at a hot dog stand?”

  “She’s not going to give us her address.” Jake jabbed his finger at the windshield. “There it is.”

  “And not even an illegal parking spot available in front.”

  “I have other tricks up my sleeve.” He wheeled the sedan around and pulled into a parking lot that charged five bucks per half hour. He flashed his badge at the parking attendant, who then waved him behind a couple of cars.

  “That’s—” he turned off the engine “—how it’s done.”

  They walked the half block to the hot dog stand and staked out a table outside under a pink umbrella. She must’ve been waiting for them because it didn’t take Sunny long to spring up from behind a building, her high heels wobbling on the sidewalk as she sashayed toward them.

  She definitely had the walk down, but otherwise she could’ve passed for the girl next door with her slim figure and Bambi eyes. Must’ve been how Kyra’s own mother marketed herself.

  Kyra twisted her fingers in her lap and put on a smile for the woman. She had her reasons for doing what she was doing. Kyra was long past judgment.

  Jake, ever the gentleman even in the most questionable of circumstances, stood up at her approach. “Sunny?”

  Sunny brushed her long hair from her face, lightly made up for daytime. For all Kyra knew, Sunny could morph into a different persona at night.

  “Yeah, I’m Sunny. You Detective McAllister?”

  “That’s right.” He pulled out a plastic chair. “Have a seat.”

  “Who’s she?” Sunny aimed a short pink-tipped fingernail at Kyra.

  “She’s a victims’ rights advocate. She’s working with me on the case.”

  “Good.” Sunny dragged the chair back and squirmed into it. “Because I’m a victim here, right? Dude could’ve killed me, too.”

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning.” Jake pulled out a notebook. “Tell me how you met him, what he said, how he looked. If this seems credible, I’ll get you down to the station to meet with a sketch artist.”

  “Credible? You mean like believable?” Sunny tapped one finger on the table. “This is the real deal.”

  “So, how did you meet this guy and what time?” Jake held his pen poised over the paper.

  “Wait. Can I at least get lunch out of this?”

  “Sure.” He pocketed his notepad. “What would you like?”

  “Get me the Hollywood Dog and a lemonade.”

  “Kyra?” Jake raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Same.”

  He rose from the table and got in line behind two tourists in shorts, clutching maps to the stars’ homes.

  Sunny narrowed her brown eyes. “He’s fine. Probably doesn’t have to pay for it, but sometimes that doesn’t matter, you know?”

  Kyra nodded.

  “You’d be surprised at who comes knocking at my door.” Sunny held up her fingers and began ticking off the various professions of men who found themselves in need of her services. She’d just gotten to politicians when Jake returned to the table with three dogs and three drinks.

  The Hollywood Dog boasted chili, raw onions and corn chips, and Sunny sank her white teeth into the end of the whole mess.

  A few more bites and several napkins later, she got down to business. “Okay, this happened the night before last. I was working my corner when this man approached me for, you know, a good time.”

  “What time?”

  “After midnight. I usually work until two when the bars close.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Average height. I’m about five foot eight with my heels on, and he was a little taller than me. Average weight, not buff or anything.” She eyed Jake’s shoulders, her gaze slipping to his strong forearms resting on the table.

  “Hair?”

  “Longish. Below his ears.” Sunny drew a line across her neck. “But shaved up on one side. Brown. Brown eyes. Glasses. No facial hair.”

  “Did you see a car?”

  “He approached me on foot. Wanted the full package, so I took him to one of the motel rooms we use.”

  Jake hunched forward. “Do you remember which one?”

  “Before you get all excited, because I know what you’re after, he didn’t leave any print
s in that room because he was wearing gloves.”

  Kyra blurted out, “Gloves? It had to be over seventy degrees the other night.”

  “I know, right?” Sunny spread her hands. “That was the first weirdo thing.”

  “What were the rest of the weirdo things?” Jake slurped down some of his drink.

  “He wanted me to lie still with my hands at my sides. He didn’t want me touching him.” She shrugged. “Hey, less work for me, right? He also put his hand around my neck. Lotta guys do that.”

  Kyra had to put down her hot dog and swallow fast as the food turned to ashes in her mouth. That alone should terrify Sunny.

  “Then he started calling me Gracie. Gracie this. Gracie that.”

  Jake glanced at Kyra. “Do you remember what he said to Gracie?”

  “Not really. Mumbling pathetic things like, how do you like me now, Gracie? Stuff like that. Like he was getting something over on her.” Sunny popped the last of her hot dog in her mouth and brushed her hands together. “Couldn’t end fast enough for me. He paid with cash and left. Didn’t think about him again until this afternoon when I heard the name of one of those victims of The Copycat Player—Gracie. Freaked me out. I mean it’s not a common name, am I right?”

  “You’re right.” Jake slipped Sunny his card. “Can you come to the station to sit down with an artist? We’d like to get this sketch out as soon as possible.”

  “Really?” Sunny toyed with her rings. “Nobody’s gonna know it’s me, right?”

  Jake raised two fingers. “Complete anonymity.”

  “Then I’ll do it. Can you give me a ride?”

  “One more thing.” Jake crumpled the waxy yellow paper from his hot dog and lobbed it into a trash can. “You said he didn’t leave prints in the room because he wore gloves. Did he leave his...DNA anywhere?”

  “His DNA?” Sunny rolled her eyes. “You mean his—”

  Jake cut in. “Exactly.”

  “You know—” Sunny tapped her nails on the plastic table “—now that you mention it, he was my last trick of the night. I always head home after the last one to shower at my own place. I haven’t done laundry since then, so the clothes I was wearing that night just might have some of his...DNA.”

  “Yes!” Jake slammed his fist on the table, rattling the ice in their drinks. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Is your place nearby? Can we stop by there on our way to the station?”

  “Sure.” Sunny dabbed her lips with a napkin and picked up her cup. “You really think this might be the guy?”

  “Right now, it’s the best we got.”

  After swinging by Sunny’s apartment, where she ran inside and returned to the car with a garbage bag full of clothes, Jake drove on to the station and set Sunny up with a sketch artist. He then had one of the officers on the task force bag Sunny’s clothes for a trip to the lab.

  When he finally collapsed behind his desk, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I have a good feeling about this.”

  Kyra left her own desk to join him. Maybe Brandon should’ve put her right next to him instead of across the room. “Do you have other task force members questioning some of the other hookers in the area to see if any of them had similar experiences?”

  “They’re on it.” Jake massaged his temples. “He thought he was being so smart by not sexually assaulting his victims and leaving DNA, but he messed up by mentioning Gracie’s name. They always mess up.”

  “The Player never did.” Kyra squeezed the back of her neck.

  “He did, Kyra. Somehow, some way, he did mess up. Nobody caught it.”

  “Quinn would’ve caught it.” Heat rose to her cheeks at the tone of her voice. Quinn didn’t need her to defend him.

  Jake’s hand dropped to her thigh. “Helluva detective, but even he’d tell you he missed something. There is no perfect crime.”

  Her gaze dropped to his hand, and he snatched it away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You don’t have to...” She zipped her lips as Billy entered the room.

  He rushed over and high-fived Jake. “I think we got this, my man. Thank the heavens for working girls—I mean that from a law enforcement perspective, of course.”

  “Of course.” Jake snorted. “Sunny’s still with the artist and her clothes are being tested as we speak. Rush job on that.”

  Billy said, “I also sent out a team to look for cameras along Sunny’s stretch of turf. Maybe we can get this guy on camera, too. Maybe catch sight of a car.”

  Kyra scooted Billy’s chair away from Jake and stood up. “All yours.”

  “Didn’t mean to chase you off, especially since I got a call from Megan today.”

  “Oh, good.” Kyra shook her finger at Billy. “Treat her right. She’s coming out of a bad breakup.”

  “I treat all the ladies right.”

  “That’s your problem.” Jake shoved a file toward Billy. “We’re tracking down Gracie’s last movements. We don’t see a Melrose connection yet, but we’re not ruling it out. We’re also looking for missing jewelry because Marissa’s jade bracelet is definitely gone.”

  One of the officers from the task force called across the room. “Kyra, can I talk to you a minute?”

  She left Jake and Billy, heads bent over the file, and approached the officer. “What do you need?”

  “Gracie Cho’s parents don’t speak English, just Korean. We’d like to get someone to help them out. Can you recommend someone?”

  “I think so. Are they here in LA?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me reach out to my contacts. I’ll let you know.”

  For the next hour before the task force meeting, Kyra stayed on the phone searching for a Korean-speaking therapist or grief counselor. She located one minutes before Jake stood up and announced the meeting.

  As they all crowded into the conference room; Kyra stood at the back as she always did. Though the team seemed to accept her, she’d caught a few looks from the other officers as she accompanied Jake through the halls of the station. They couldn’t accuse her of currying favor with the boss since their jobs and hers were on different planes, but she and Jake didn’t need the gossip.

  As Jake started the slides, the first one up contained the sketch based on Sunny’s description. As Kyra studied the eyes behind the glasses, she shivered. They looked so mild, yet they had an emptiness about them. She could only guess that they took on a different look when he was hunting his prey. His longish brown hair cut shorter on one side was distinctive, though not distinctive enough for the Hollywood or Melrose crowd—if that’s where he hung out. That clean-cut barista at Uncommon Grounds was the exception not the rule in that area.

  She shifted her focus to Billy, now doing the talking.

  “We didn’t find a Melrose connection to Gracie. She lived in Encino and worked in Studio City, but we’re not done yet. Still no ID on the woman found at the Malibu fire site, so that hurts us for clues. We’re asking Sunny, the hooker who gave us the sketch, to put out the word among her girls to step up if they had an encounter like hers and we just might get DNA from Sunny’s unwashed clothing she wore the night of her encounter with the man talking about Gracie. Sorry, no prints, Clive.” Billy waved to the fingerprint technician standing in the back with Kyra. “We’re in the best shape we’ve been in yet. So, keep up the canvassing of the Melrose and Hollywood areas. We need to get him before he kills again.”

  The meeting adjourned, and Brandon placed a stack of the sketches on a table at the exit. As Kyra wandered out, she grabbed a couple.

  Back in the war room, Jake stopped by her desk. “Billy and I are headed out for a few more interviews, and then I have a meeting with Castillo before I knock off. Do you need a ride back to your car? You left it at Marissa’s apartment.”

  “If you’re going to Hollywood, that’s out of your way. Don�
��t worry. I’ll get it.”

  He leaned in close to her. “I just don’t want you stealing another car.”

  She smiled. “I’ll get a rideshare.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier. I called the hospital and Matt’s still in a coma. Doesn’t look good.”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have problems with him, but he was the closest thing I had to a brother.”

  “No more cards, though?”

  “No.”

  “He was probably lying about getting paid.” Jake rapped his knuckles on her desk. “Thanks for coming out with me today to talk to Sunny. I think it helped having you there. The working girls are always suspicious of cops.”

  “Happy to help, although you did all the talking.”

  “Have a good night...and be careful.”

  “I always am.” She was lying, and he knew it.

  Kyra worked for another hour, but it was still light when Rachel Blackburn called her.

  “I hate to bother you, Kyra, but can you meet me before I head home?”

  “Of course. Where?”

  “You can just come by the shop. I’m closing at eight.”

  “That’s perfect. I have to pick up my car first. I’ll see you around eight.”

  Kyra gathered her belongings and ordered an app car from her phone. She slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out to the curb in front of the station.

  When her ride pulled behind her car near Marissa’s apartment, the sun was beginning to set. The strident oranges and reds produced by the haze from the wildfire had subsided to a creamy vanilla orange Popsicle marking the end of the Indian summer. It felt like the closing of a chapter. Maybe that meant the task force would close in on The Copycat Player.

  Kyra paused before she got in her car and gazed at the building across the street. Those young women had probably been full of excitement and big dreams when they moved into that place. Now that chapter had ended, too.

  She made it to West Hollywood just about ten minutes past eight and lucked out with a metered parking spot on the street. The Closed sign hung in the window of the shop where Rachel worked, so Kyra cupped her hand over her eyes and peered through the glass.