Her eyes narrow. “Sunny.”
A smirk forms on my face. “That’s right. Sunny Reed. Daughter of Lana Rivera and Nathan Reed.” I glance over my shoulder at her uncle Felix, who is still vigorously reading through the papers I just handed him.
Interesting.
“You seem to know an awful lot about my family,” she says.
“Part of the job. Can you come with me for a second?” I ask, extending a hand.
Sunny glares at my hand, then pushes the yellow tape aside to step away without accepting my hand. So much for being a little grateful.
When we’re away from the crowd, I pull her aside so no one can hear us talk.
“You’re up and about, back into action quickly, eh?” I ask her.
She folds her arms. “The doctors did their job well enough. What else can I say?”
“I’m glad.” I smile. “Happy to see you’re healthy enough to come see what the ruckus is all about.”
Her eyes dart to the body on the field behind me and then back to me, and I wonder how much of it she saw before the blanket was pulled over his head. Too much perhaps … or too little to satisfy the questions probably burning in the back of her mind.
“A body,” she mutters under her breath. “Have you found any others?”
I merely smile. “I’m pretty sure you know I’m not going to divulge such information to civilians.”
She shrugs. “Didn’t hurt to ask.”
Her eyes scatter all over the area, homing in on two boys in particular who were found hiding in the forest to sneak a peek at our investigation, and I get the feeling the three are acquainted.
“Any reason in particular as to why you want to know?” I ask her.
“No reason. Just morbid curiosity.” She perks up her boobs with her arms, and I don’t know why I notice, but I do.
I lean in. “Morbid curiosity … to find out if the person who did this was the same one who was after you?”
She stares me down, face still as emotionless as before, but her eyes … something inside them just flickered.
“Nonsense.”
“Why?”
“Because they let me live,” she replies. “And the person who did this obviously wanted their victims to perish.”
I chuckle. “Astute observation.”
“Gruesome death?” she asks.
“Very. I’m impressed.”
She shivers in place, but I can’t quite tell if it’s because of fear … or because of the thrill.
“It’s not hard to see, judging by the number of police that showed up, this must obviously be a recurring theme.”
“You’re under the impression you know a lot about police business,” I muse.
She puts her hands against her waistline. “And you seem to think you know a lot about killers, yet you haven’t caught a single one.”
That … little … brat.
