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“If he’s a serial killer, he won’t settle for that.”
Francesca’s words reminded him of Winona Green, the profiler he’d contacted. He’d faxed her the details they had on the Dead Mule Canyon killings but hadn’t heard back. What with recent discoveries—the identity of one of the bodies and details about Dean—he could provide a bit more information. But what was the point? The task force would call in a profiler of their own, if they had any confidence in that sort of thing.
Still, he should contact her, let her know not to worry about finishing up….
He’d take care of it in the morning, when he was back home and away from the gravitational pull of this case with its many unanswered questions.
“Maybe it’s not Butch. Maybe it’s Dean,” he said.
“What if it is Dean? That doesn’t mean the killings will stop,” she responded.
Old-town Prescott was replaced by newer buildings set farther and farther apart.
“So what do you suggest we do?” he asked. “Ignore what we were told? Act like we weren’t kicked off the case?”
Scowling, she stared out at the desert landscape. “I don’t know. I can’t just drop this. Partly because it doesn’t feel as if Hunsacker and Finch are paying enough attention to Butch and Dean.”
Jonah understood. He felt the same way. But there were advantages to what had occurred this morning, which he’d been busy trying to tell himself.
“Don’t you care about how Finch and Hunsacker treated you?” Francesca asked.
“If you want the truth, I was tempted to break Hunsacker’s jaw. If he wasn’t so fat and incapable of defending himself, maybe I would have. But I held on to my temper. And now I’m proud of myself for that. I’m thinking we both might benefit from taking this opportunity to…”
She finished his sentence before he could unearth the words he was searching for. “Put some distance between us?”
“To work on something a little less sexually frustrating,” he muttered.
She turned to look at him. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d fight for this case, wouldn’t you?”
Propping his chin up with his fist, he gazed out the window. “Maybe.” Definitely. But leaving meant he wouldn’t be forced to endure her company anymore or the confusing emotions she evoked. Once he got to California, if all went as planned, those feelings would dull in intensity, at least enough that he could function without thinking of her constantly. He’d managed it before.
Of course, it’d taken him ten years to reach that point, but he didn’t want to concentrate on that detail. It was too damn depressing.
“In any event, we’d be crazy to give them a reason to charge us with interfering. Because they’ll do it if we provoke them.”
“What if you talked to the sheriff?” she said. “Maybe you can get him to change his mind.”
“He’s the one who signed the notice of dismissal, remember?” He pulled the file from between the seat and the console and waved it at her.
“So that’s it? You’re leaving because of me.”
He shrugged. “More or less.”
She didn’t seem to like the sound of that. “What will you do when you get home?”
“Same thing you should. Take on a different case. Try to forget this one.”
“Are you worried that your boss might be upset by how it went down in Prescott?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He stretched his seat belt. “Because I’ve already proven myself. I’ll tell him what happened and that will be that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Contracts get canceled now and then. With the task force they’re forming, this isn’t all that unusual. Besides, I haven’t done anything wrong. I couldn’t let Demon kill you. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing bad they can say about my work.”
