In.
Case.
As Gene pulled on his jacket, Ethan flipped to the car’s forensic report, and there was nothing monumental in it, and like the detective had mentioned, there were very few fingerprints.
“That same partial fingerprint didn’t show up in the car,” Ethan stated.
Gene thought about it.
“Well, maybe she was entertaining people, or it belongs to Randal, her ex. We’ll find out once they can digitally rebuild it. I’m going to be hella glad when technology progresses. I betDamascusstill keeps prints in hard copies.”
Ethan laughed.
“This backward berg? Ya think?” he asked.
He laughed.
“Call me if anything pops up,” Gene said, leaning down to give his partner a quick kiss on the lips when no one was looking.“And for God’s sake, keep your ass out of trouble. As in right here where I can find you!”
Ethan winked at him.
“Got it, slightly bossy boyfriend.”
Yeah, well, someone made him that way.
Without another word, Gene headed out. While he was gone, Ethan sat there, drinking coffee, and working on his laptop to see if anything was popping up on the people they’d crossed paths with on this case.
None were.
Great.
That sucked.
He wasn’t finding anything significant that was piquing his interest, and that meant they weren’t getting any more leads.
When his phone rang again, it was a very familiar number.
Gabe’s.
Instead of answering it, he sent it directly to voicemail. There was no way in hell he was talking to the man. After this last stunt, he could fuck all the way off as far as he was concerned.
And he meant that with the utmost disrespect.
Ethan kept working, and when he looked at his watch, he saw that over thirty minutes went by as he was lost in the research.
Time flew when you were having fun.
Not.
As he was sitting there, suddenly Gene popped into his head, and he was wondering where he was. The copy shop wasn’t that far away.
And then it happened.
It was when he heard the squeal of tires, and then the very distinct pop of gunshots.
Five.
Of.
