The low, rough tone of his voice, along with the spark of heat in his eyes, suggested there was more to his question than work. He’d been after her to go out with him for two years. So far, she hadn’t relented. Not that she hadn’t been tempted. Even a workaholic like her made time for fine man-candy like him, but the timing had never been right to develop their flirtation into something more. Still wasn’t. Laura avoided his eager-puppy gaze and took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk, setting her messenger bag on the other. “Can’t a girl just stop by to say hello and bring her favorite cop a treat?”
“Sure.” He popped the lid off his cup and inhaled the steam rising from it like a junkie taking a hit of meth. Like any reporter worth her salt, Laura was well aware of his weaknesses—strong black coffee, beautiful women, sugar—and she wasn’t above using them against him when necessary. Too bad he knew her buttons to push as well. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”
“Why does everyone question my motives today?”
He raised a brow at her, sipping his coffee, staring at her over the rim.
“Fine. I need a name. That’s all. Just one name…”
“Ah, a name.” He nodded, his smile cryptic. “And whose name might you be needing?”
“There was an incident this morning over on Sixth and Fremont, at the El Cortez. I happened to be driving by, so I stopped to check it out and—”
“Trespassed on a crime scene. Yes, I know.”
Laura frowned. “I did not trespass.”
“Really? My beat cops told a different story. Pardon me if I take their word over yours.” He grinned. “I hope you didn’t compromise evidence.”
“I would never.”
“Laura, Laura, Laura.” He leaned forward to rest his muscular forearms on the desk. “When will you learn that I have eyes and ears everywhere?”
“Fine.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “I might’ve done a bit of creative wandering while I was there, but it was all in the name of journalism, and I never compromised anything. I didn’t even get within ten feet of that body. That’s why I’m here, actually. I’m hoping you can tell me the name of the victim.”
“I can’t, Laura.” He sighed, his smile fading. “You know that. Against regulations.”
She scrunched her nose. She hadn’t wanted to play her trump card, but she really needed that name. “I’ll keep it private, I promise. Consider it a personal favor, just between you and me.”
“A favor, huh?” He seemed to consider her offer, his warm gaze narrowing. “Still haven’t collected on all those other ‘favors’ yet.”
“I can’t help it if I’m busy, Troy.”
“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t work so hard.” He reached across the desk to trace his finger over the back of her hand. “Have dinner with me later this week?”
Laura’s stomach knotted. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Troy. He was nice enough, in a muscled-god, baby-faced-boy kind of way, but once she got hooked on a story, she was like a horse with blinders. All she saw, all she ate, slept, and drank was that story. And right now, the body at the El Cortez was her new story. Still, she had to keep him interested long enough to give her what she needed. Besides, one dinner couldn’t hurt anything. “Maybe. You give me the name and I’ll check my calendar.”
He cursed and turned away from her to face his computer. “Look, even if I wanted to tell you, I couldn’t. The victim had no ID, and so far there’s been no matches on fingerprints or dental records. Once we do get the match, the detectives have to notify the next of kin before we can release that information. You know the procedure, Laura. Hell, your brother followed it for years. What if the victim’s family happened to see something in the paper about their loved one before they’d been notified by the department? Think how they’d feel. Think of the liability this department would face. There’d be hell to pay, and rightly so. Understand?”
“Understood.” She slumped in her seat and stared at the mounds of paperwork on his desk while he typed on his keyboard, his back to her. At the top of one messy pile were several snapshots—a red polka-dot dress, a fishnet-covered foot, dark hair styled in an elaborate 1940s-style hairdo.
The crime scene.
Pulse pounding, Laura leaned forward again, slowly, so as not to draw Troy’s attention.
If I can just get a peek at those…
“So, I suppose that means dinner’s off?” Troy asked, his gaze still focused on his computer screen. “You know we really should give this thing between us a try. We have a lot in common. We’re both Las Vegas natives, both raised in big families, both too smart for our own good.”
With her breath held, Laura gently nudged a stack of papers out of the way to see the scrawled notes beneath it on the corner of one photo—disposable cell phone found in trash. Sent to IT for analysis. Need to question McQuade.
Huh. Why would they need to question Mike McQuade about the victim’s cell phone? And why couldn’t they ID her from the SIM card inside? Most importantly, how involved was Mike McQuade in all of this? I’m apparently not the only one investigating his link to the murder this morning. His game, his scene, his kill?
Laura shook her head to clear it. She’d been trained to connect the dots between disparate facts and draw conclusions, but the jump from some whacko using imagery from McQuade’s video game as inspiration for the murder to Mike McQuade committing said murder himself was far too big, especially at this early stage.
Still, the cops must suspect he’d had some involvement if they wanted to question him.
That settled it.
She needed to talk to him, the sooner the better.
At her lack of response, Troy turned to face her again and took her hand before she could pull away. “Listen, Laura, I know why you come in here and this whole cat-and-mouse game we play is all in good fun, but I’d really like to have dinner with you. Get to know you better.” He gestured toward the rest of the room with his free hand. “Outside of all this craziness. What do you say?”
“I—” Laura pushed to her feet and yanked free. “I think that sounds nice, Troy. How about I call you later and we can set something up?”
“Yeah.” His flat tone suggested he didn’t believe her at all. “Whatever.”
“Okay, then. Talk to you soon.” She hustled out of there like her butt was on fire. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Troy or wasn’t attracted to him. He was fine. She just didn’t have time to deal with a relationship right now. Not with him. Not with anyone. She had goals and dreams and a budding career, and getting involved in a serious relationship would only jeopardize those aspirations.
Disappointed, she waved to the gals at the reception desk on her way out. She’d really hoped to get more information about the victim, but all she’d ended up with was another runaround. Either Troy really didn’t have the information, or he’d been lying.
Either way, all she had now was a vague description of some tech head whose game may or may not be involved with this whole sordid deal. And a vague address. As she climbed in behind the wheel of her white sedan, she cringed. Going into a story blind wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t look like she had much choice in the matter. She eased her car out of its parking spot and headed back toward her apartment downtown.
She was on to something here. She could feel it in her bones.
Now she just had to find a clue, any clue, to lead her in the right direction.
Three
Laura walked into her apartment and was struck by a pang of guilt.
Not because her sister Olivia stood waiting for her at the counter because she was running late. Again. She glanced around at her messy place. No. She felt guilty because she should’ve tried to clean up before her guest arrived. At least she thought that’s what normal people did. People who weren’t busy pursuing their life goals, anyway.
Liv, of course, was doing what Liv always did best—looking perfect, acting perfect, being perfect. Perfect long, da
rk hair. Perfect cat-like green eyes. Perfect body in her perfect clothes. Growing up, Laura had often felt overshadowed by her older sister’s dazzling lack of imperfections. Now… now it just was what it was. Liv was perfect and Laura… wasn’t.
Oh, well.
She tossed her messenger bag on a table beside the door and walked into the kitchen. “What’s up?”
Her sister gave her a small smile and pointed at a foil-covered pan on the counter. “Brought you a casserole from Mom.” She leaned back against the breakfast bar on her elbows while Laura pulled a bottle of water from her fridge. She offered Liv one too, but she declined. “Good thing I had it with me, since there’s nothing else to eat around here. Not to mention the fact lunch was an hour ago.”
“I planned to go to the grocery store later.” Laura cracked open her water and took a sip. “And I’m sorry. I got caught in a meeting at the police station.”
“Arrested again, huh?”
“Funny. No. I was trying to dig up some information for a new story.”
“You invited me to lunch today.”
“We can still go out, if you want. An early dinner.”
Liv shook her head. “Even the early-bird specials don’t start until four. Admit it. You forgot about me.”
“I did not. I just got wrapped up in other things and lost track of time.”
“You could’ve texted me.”
“My battery died,” Laura said, her tone sheepish. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? You know how I get when I’m working.”
“Yeah, I do. Because I’m the same way.” Olivia grinned. “Must be the Rockford gene.”
“Must be.” Laura took another gulp of water then screwed the lid back on, feeling a bit underdressed compared to her sister’s designer pantsuit chic. But the nature of Laura’s work demanded a more casual vibe, professional yet functional, able to accommodate a variety of situations at a moment’s notice. Liv’s attire was a reflection of her status—sleek, black, tailor-made trousers and jacket paired with a crisp white shirt. The whole ensemble practically screamed corporate power bitch. As COO of Rockford Security, Liv was used to proving herself in a man’s world, and it showed in her austere dress and brusque manner.
Yet underneath all that business armor resided the sister she loved. The sister who’d taught her all the self-defense moves she knew. The sister who loved gossip as much as Laura did, even if she’d never admit it.
“So.” Liv tossed her long chocolate-brown hair over her shoulder and faced Laura. “Heard you stopped by the office this morning and didn’t bother to say hi to your big sis.” She placed a dramatic hand over her heart and winced. “I’m hurt.”
“Like I said, I’m working on something.” She went through the stack of days-old mail on her side table. Bills she set to one side, the rest got tossed into the trash, unopened.
“Tell me about it.”
“What? My new story?”
“Yeah.” Liv started tidying some of the clutter in the living room, neatly stacking the scattered newspapers and folding several scarves Laura had tossed over the back of the sofa on her way in or out of the place. “Anything interesting?”
“Not sure yet. On my way to see Blake, I came across a crime scene. Woman. Looked to be in her mid-thirties. Killed near the pool at the El Cortez. When I showed the footage on my phone to Blake, he immediately thought of some video game he’d seen a year or so ago. He mentioned knowing the developer. Local guy named Mike McQuade. I went to the police station to see if I could get any more info on the victim.”
“The Mike McQuade?”
“Yeah. Why?” She joined Liv in the living room and shoved aside several half-read magazines and a couple of balled-up sweaters so they could both sit down. “You know him too?”
“No.” Liv winked. “All I know is what I’ve seen in the local society columns. He’s the hot new bachelor in town. And not just for his technical skills.”
“Oh.” At this point, Laura didn’t care if he looked like George Clooney. All she wanted to know was if he’d had something to do with that woman’s death this morning. “Well, it seems he might be in trouble.”
“Really?” Liv leaned in closer. “Why? Did he have something to do with the murder? What did you find out?”
“Nothing concrete yet, but from what Blake told me about his game and what I saw this morning, there might be a connection between him and the victim.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. What else can you tell me about him?”
“Not much. Like I said, I’ve never met him personally. From what I’ve read, though, he’s pretty reclusive. Keeps to himself, doesn’t go out much, very mysterious.”
“Huh.” Laura shrugged. “Well, I guess I can find out more later at his place.”
Liv straightened. “Tell me you’re not thinking of going over there. How do you even know where he lives?”
“Blake mentioned it earlier today. And yeah. I need to talk to him to find out what he knows. This could be my big break, Sis. My shot at a national spot. I can’t let it slip away.”
“I’m not sure going over there is a good idea, Laura. What if this guy is involved in that woman’s death somehow? You can’t just walk into a killer’s home and accuse him of murder.”
“I’m not an idiot.” Laura crossed her arms. She appreciated her sister’s concern, but nothing worth pursuing came risk free. Besides, the guy sat behind a computer all day. How dangerous could he be? “I just want to talk to the guy. Butter him up a little. See if I can find out more about him. And what entrepreneur doesn’t like talking about their business, right? Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. I learned from the best, remember?”
“Yeah.” Liv gave her a self-satisfied grin. “You were my best student.”
“Yep.” Laura fist-pumped the air. “Girls rule.”
“Damn straight.” Liv’s stomach growled, and she chuckled. “Mind if I heat up some of Mom’s casserole?”
“Nah, help yourself. I’ll never eat all of that anyway. What did she send this time?”
Laura followed her sister back into the kitchen and said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d at least remembered to run the dishwasher the other night. Accepting food donations from her family was one thing. Having them pity her for her complete lack of housekeeping skills was another. It wasn’t that she liked living in a post-party dorm-room environment. She just had better things to do with her time. Like work.
Liv fixed them each a plate of homemade mac and cheese, and they resettled on the sofa to eat. It was the first hot, home-cooked meal Laura had had since the last Rockford get-together a month prior, and the delicious food and the love put into making it were the equivalent of a warm security blanket.
“Tell me more about what this guy looks like,” Laura said around a bite of cheesy goodness as she booted up her laptop. A quick Google search brought up the website for McQuade’s company, M Cubed, as well as several buy links for his games. No pictures of him on the site, though. She didn’t have much time to sit around and play video games, but this was all in the name of research. Laura set her plate aside and got up to dig her wallet out of her messenger bag.
“What are you doing?” Liv asked around a mouthful of pasta.
“I’m going to download his game, Vegas Noir, to see what it’s like. If it’s got something to do with these murders, then it might give me some leads.” She returned to the couch and typed in her credit card info then pushed Purchase. Minutes later the game opened on her screen.
Liv leaned in closer to peer at her screen. “That looks pretty cool. Very old Vegas, Rat Pack style.”
“Yeah.” Laura quickly zipped through the instructions then chose her character, a James Cagney–style gangster. “You want to play too?” She glanced at her sister.
“Sure.” Liv shrugged and reached over to tap a few keys on the laptop. “There. Now I’m Veronica Lake.”
“Nice.”
Together they explored the
virtual world Mike had created. Everything was quite detailed, from the setting to the clothing to the dialogue. They made it through half of the first level before they were both out of XP points and their characters were dead in the street in front of the old Glitter Gulch Casino.
“Well, that was interesting.” Liv snorted and set her empty dish aside.
“Yeah.” Laura rolled her stiff neck and closed the laptop. Almost an hour had passed in what seemed like seconds. No wonder people called those games such time sucks. She never lost track of time that way. “I still need to get a better idea of what this Mike McQuade looks like before I head to his place. Don’t want to pass him in the hall without knowing it.”
“Here.” Liv grabbed her phone from her pocket. “I can show you.”
“Really?” Laura watched Liv thumb McQuade’s name into her browser. Seconds later a bevy of results came up, including several pictures. She passed the phone to Laura and smiled. “Pretty hot, right?”
“Yeah, he’s okay I guess.” Tall and lean, with brown hair and eyes, his scruffy stubble, Buddy Holly glasses, and casual-chic designer hoodie and jeans pegged him as a typical hipster. Definitely not the uber-nerd she’d expected. “If you go for that whole dark and mysterious type.”
Which she did.
Her sister’s expression hovered somewhere between polite disinterest and “I told you so.”
She scrolled to the next shot of Mike, and a tingle of unwanted feminine awareness sizzled through her lower abdomen. This time he was facing the camera, a shadow of darkness lurking behind his chocolate gaze. Dressed this time in a tailored black suit, his shoulders were slightly hunched, as if deflecting a hard blow. She couldn’t help but wonder who or what had hurt him, couldn’t help wanting to defend him. The text below the picture mentioned him leaving the funeral of a close friend.
Sympathy joined the warmth bubbling inside her.
She handed the phone back to her sister fast. Nope. Not going there. Her integrity as a journalist required her to remain impartial. If she wanted this story to work, she could not develop feelings for this Mike McQuade, no matter how innocent.
Fatal Games (The Rockford Security Series Book 2) Page 2
