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She moved closer to the team assisting the coroner with the remains. Two bodies left in dumpsters within a week of each other wouldn’t be classified as a coincidence despite the different locations. But these murders were probably less than forty-eight hours apart and connected at the very least by the gang tag on the side of the bin.
It seemed logical that if the cartel was moving drugs swiftly up and down the I-95 corridor and across state lines, murder wouldn’t be hard to accomplish in the same manner. It was a preliminary leap, but in the current context, it didn’t feel like the wrong one.
Where was Bart? She looked around again, desperate to warn him right away that they were dealing with something more than random violence.
“There’s my girl!”
She turned on her heel as Bart’s deep voice rumbled through the air with the subtle charm of an earthquake. “Hi.”
He spread his arms wide as he walked closer. “They told me you were here.”
The cashier had probably given him a head’s up as soon as she’d pulled in. Everyone he employed knew the two of them had been dating, if that was even the right term for it. Until Las Vegas, they’d seen each other once or twice a month. After Vegas, they’d chosen not to see each other at all.
Her feet rooted to the patch of asphalt she occupied and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Part of her wanted to race into his arms and the other part wanted to keep her distance for fear he’d figure out her secret before she could figure out how best to tell him.
He wrapped her in one of those big hugs she’d come to love, lifting her off her feet and giving her a smacking kiss on the mouth. Her only option was to hang on to his shoulders and enjoy the ride. “We need to talk,” she said as soon as he set her back on her feet.
“Word is you’re in trouble,” he said at her ear.
She did a double take at the old-fashioned phrase before she realized he was talking about the not-so-real marriage rather than the baby. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”
At least she’d made one final decision on the drive. Once they cleared him of whatever trouble had targeted him, she’d tell him about the baby and give him time to think about how involved he wanted to be. While she knew it wasn’t fair to put so much on him, she knew his reaction would help her choose whether to keep the baby or give it up for adoption.
Of course, that led down another warren of options and choices. When he knew she carried his child, would he find her inevitable relocation a positive or negative thing?
“Hey.” He rubbed her arm, jerking his hand back when she winced and twisted away. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, pushing her lips up into a bright smile. This wasn’t the time to get lost in those meandering thoughts. She needed to focus, to find the correlation between here and Baltimore, to determine why the DEA would order a wiretap for his business.
“I just tweaked a shoulder in training.” It felt terrible to lie this much when she wasn’t officially undercover, but she didn’t want to discuss how she’d been shot right here in front of everyone.
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “We’ll sort out all of the personal stuff just as soon as everyone leaves.”
“Sure.” What else could she do, insist on taking a long, romantic walk? This was not the time and neither of them hadthe natural inclination. His practicality was one of the things she appreciated about him. “Can you tell me anything about this?”
“Not much other than I found the body.” He pointed to the camera. “Video was compromised.”
“Any sign of a struggle?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
“Mind if I look around inside?” The day was turning hot already and the suit jacket, a queasy stomach, and jumpy nerves weren’t an ideal combination.
“Go on ahead.”
She nodded her thanks and hurried into the kitchen. Removing her sunglasses, she looked around, getting a feel for how Tim had done things. There was a white board near the normal refrigerator marked for employees. A grocery list ran down the left side, but the right side was quartered for special items and tasks.
Scrawled at an angle across one corner, a reminder reading‘order flowers’had clearly been written by someone else.
Bart’s handwriting, she realized. She wondered if it was a sympathy thing for Tim’s family or for someone else on his staff. Knowing Bart’s dedication to the team, either scenario was possible.
That had been the problem with this case from the start. Too many possibilities. She needed to start ruling things out.
“Come on,” she whispered. Tim was smart. He wouldn’t have messed with the cartel for any of the typical reasons people got involved with gangs and drugs.
The vents and equipment were turned off, but she imagined when this place was hopping it was hot work.
She looked back to the white board, stepping closer to read a note under the produce heading. An adjustment had been made to the order in Bart’s cramped writing. “The man should have been a doctor,” she muttered, trying to make it out.
