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She arched an eyebrow at him. “Your hair’s a mess and you’re not wearing a shirt or shoes.”
“I’m talking about the determination on my face.”
“Is that what it is?”
“What did you think?”
“I think you look…sleepy,” she said. “Relaxed. But there’s no need for you to be anything else. You won’t be walking up to that door. You don’t have to worry.”
He didn’t? Did she believe he wouldn’t care if what he heard over that radio turned out to be the sound of a bat cracking her skull? He and Finch had devised the best plan they could to protect her. The closest they could get to the salvage yard was to have some guys wearing coveralls pose as utility workers, but he was still uneasy. If Butch decided to hurt Francesca, there was no guarantee they’d be able to stop him in time. Murder could happen in seconds. “Right. I have nothing at stake.”
His BlackBerry went off before she could respond. Grateful for the distraction, he picked it up from the desk where he’d left it charging, and checked caller ID. It was Dr. Price. “Hello?”
“Jonah, it’s Leslie.”
Leaning against the desk, he took another sip of his coffee. “How’s my favorite forensic anthropologist?”
“How many forensic anthropologists do you know?”
“At least two.”
“That’s what I thought. And yet I’m flattered. Go figure.”
He smiled at the humor in her voice. “I don’t pick favorites lightly. What’s going on?”
“I’m calling because I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.”
“Want to know what?”
“The evidence techs digging at Dead Mule Canyon found something this morning, about a quarter mile from the original site.”
A group from the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office worked in that canyon from dawn until dark every day, going over the area inch by inch. They were using all the men they could spare. It was a huge job and would probably take another two weeks, but in order to solve these murders, they needed every piece of evidence they could find. “Tell me it’s not more human remains,” he said, and set his coffee down long enough to open the drapes. Another sunny day in Arizona. No surprise there. Monsoon season wouldn’t hit until August.
“No. Thank goodness. This looks like something that might’ve belonged to the perpetrator.”
Although Jonah could sense Francesca watching him, he didn’t glance over at her. She made him feel too many emotions he didn’t want to feel, emotions that were better left undisturbed, especially now, when he was so determined to treat her like any other work associate. Maybe he’d been a shitty boyfriend, but he’d always been a good cop. He couldn’t help hoping this case would give him the chance to right the past—as much as that was possible. No matter what, he wouldn’t let her down again. “What is it?” he asked Leslie.
“A business card. It’s tattered and torn, but it’s legible.”
“And the name?”
“The Pour House. Have you ever heard of it?”
Almost of their own volition, his eyes jerked over to Francesca. She’d mentioned that bar. April had met Butch there on Saturday. “The Pour House has also popped up in relation to that other case I was telling you about yesterday,” he said to Leslie.
“The woman found murdered outside the Skull Valley gift shop? You think the two are related?”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“Finding this card would be awfully coincidental otherwise,” she agreed.
He scratched his bare chest. “No kidding. Thanks for letting me know.”
“You bet. You coming in today?”
“Probably not. I’m planning to work the April Bonner side of the equation, see how far I can get with that.”
“Makes sense. But before you go, I also wanted to tell you that we have a match on those veneers.”
