I shake my head while scrubbing a hand over my face, and continue to stare at the images on the screens. It seems almost too convenient for this to have all been found, with what looks like no attempt to conceal anything.
“What is it?” Ryker asks, noticing the questioning look on my face.
I hesitate, not wanting to overstep. I’m still new and there’s a lot of politics at play. Ryker is an old friend, but not the kind of friend I kept in touch with. We ran in the same circle but were never particularly close. And now he’s my boss.
“I don’t know…doesn’t it all feel a little fabricated?”
The atmosphere grows stilted, focus firmly on me.
“Keep going,” Ryker insists.
My hand drags down my face again, nerves coursing through me. “It’s just that, what year is it? Doesn’t this all seem like an oldCSIepisode? Who still uses printedphotographs? And they conveniently left behind their ‘stalker kit’? To me, it feels like a setup.”
Ryker’s brows furrow as he listens, clearly considering my take.
Morales nods in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest. I don’t miss the eyes around the room that briefly flash to her cleavage. She leans forward, almost as if she’s aware of it.
I keep my focus on Ryker.
“I get what you’re saying,” Ryker says finally. “The setup theory is one we’ve considered, but we can’t rule out the possibility of it being real just yet. Sometimes a case can appear too neat, too convenient, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s fake. We need to look at the evidence objectively, keep an open mind.”
Doyle steps in. “Agreed. We’re not ruling anything out. But we have to be careful not to jump to conclusions. We need more evidence before we make any assumptions.”
I nod, still suspicious. “I’m just worried that someone’s trying to manipulate us. The timing of Victoria being missing at the same time a bag of photographs of her are found, the way everything’s laid out—it just seems too perfect.”
Ryker pauses a moment, staring at me with an unreadable expression. “It’s a valid concern. We’ll double-check everything, make sure we’re not missing anything. But for now, we proceed as planned.”
The meeting comes to a close, and everyone starts dispersing. As I move to stand, Morales claps me on the shoulder, her hand lingering a second too long. “Good eye Alvarez. I knew I liked you.”
She saunters off, and I look around to see if anyone noticed our interaction.
Ryker taps my arm with the file in his hands. “Let’s have a chat in my office.”
I freeze, unsure if it’s a good thing or a bad thingthat he wants to meet. I answer with a nod before he exits the training room.
Cooke and Deputy Gerard—one of Cooke’s buddies—walk out in front of me. Gerard whispers something that sounds a lot like “show off”, eliciting a hearty chuckle from Cooke.
Dicks.
I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, instead I got carried away.
My heart thrashes in my chest as I make my way to Ryker’s office. I’m either about to be reprimanded or praised. With Ryker, you can never tell.
“Is it true you had to arrest Elyse?” Ryker asks, as I take the seat across from him.
He’s asking like he doesn’t already know the answer, holding back a laugh.
Since the door is closed and it’s just us two, I shoot a glare at him, not bothering to hide my irritation.
“You’re an asshole,” I say under my breath, laughing.
His head falls back, a deep chuckle rumbling out of him. “I just can’t believe you did it. You could’ve let her go as a favor and then ran it by me. It’s not like I’m worried she’ll skip town.”
I’m used to following the rules by the book. The casualness of this department is still something I’m getting used to, and it didn’t even occur to me I had the option to let her go. It goes directly against procedure to let someone go with an active warrant unless there are extenuating circumstances. In this case, there weren’t.
I should’ve called him, then maybe Elyse wouldn’t completely hate me.
Fuck, I’m an idiot. I panicked the second the MDT flagged her name after I ran her license. She looked so damn beautiful, my brain short-circuited. I was running on autopilot. And maybe some messed-up part of me liked having an excuse to touch her, to pull her in close.
