Page 37 of D for Dead

Hickok smirked at Jake before patting Boaz on the shoulder. ‘Come on now, that’s not the attitude, Officer Boaz. Think of the opportunity I’ve given you here. You could be out patrolling the street, but instead you get to watch a pretty lady.’

Despite Hickok’s sarcastic tone, Jake noted Boaz eyeing up Amy and felt his temper raise a notch. Reading him, Hickok signalled to the balcony, getting Jake to follow him outside.

‘Before you say it, yes, I know the guy is lazy and yes, he’s an idiot, but he will get the job done,’ he said without preamble.

‘You’ve got the lazy and the idiot part right,’ Jake snapped. ‘Seriously, Hickok? There was no one else available? No one?’

‘He will get the job done. You have my word.’

‘Really? I don’t buy it.’

‘You have my word,’ Hickok repeated. As Jake started to walk back inside, he added, ‘Wait up, Sullivan. There’s something else you need to know.’

Jake stopped, turned, scowled at Hickok, not saying a word. ‘We got an ID on the vic from Beaver Creek.’

‘Go on.’

‘Shannon Castle.’

‘Go on,’ Jake repeated.

Hickok gave a twisted smile. ‘She was a secretary at a publishing firm. And guess which publishing firm she worked for.’

13

The babysitting gig wasn’t so bad.

Vic had bitched like a baby when Hickok had first collared him. He was an officer of the law, not some dumbass bodyguard. Why the hell couldn’t Peterson or Chalmers take the job? Sitting around in some lady’s apartment all day was going to drag. No stopping off for snacks, no drive by of the elementary school where he knew Brooke Peterson worked, in the hope he might run into her, no chance of parking up somewhere quiet to listen to the baseball. Hickok had stitched him up. Vic knew the federal agent didn’t like him, never had done. Give any shitty job to Vic Boaz.

His brief on the ride over was simple. Watch the writer. Don’t leave her apartment unless she does and stick with her at all times. Keep her safe.

Yeah, it was simple all right, and dull as fuck. But then he’d seen the writer. And it hadn’t been so bad. Vic had always figured authors to be geeks. He wasn’t much into books and imagined those who wrote them to be dowdy and academic.

Amy Gallaty was neither. Instead she was slim and willowy with curves in all the right places and the kind of pokey out ass that, from where he sat on the couch watching her make coffee, begged to be grabbed. He wouldn’t of course. He was a professional police officer, and on duty. But still, he could enjoy the view.

She sure didn’t look like his idea of a writer.

Hickok had taken one of Amy’s dining chairs and placed it by the front door, instructing Vic to stay there, keep his mouth shut and not disturb her. Initially he had tried not to, burying his head in his paper and doing his best not to be too obvious when he copped the odd sneaky look at her. Each time he did, he caught the dog, Huckleberry, looking at him from where he lay in his bed, as if to say, ‘I clocked you, buddy.’

Amy had tried to get on with her writing, working on her laptop at the dining table, but she seemed distracted. Probably thinking about the murders, and it had to be difficult focusing with someone else in the apartment. Vic tried his best to stay quiet, but he got in a muddle with the pages of the paper at one point and couldn’t help clearing his throat a couple of times.

She’d looked over once or twice, but not said anything. Then after half an hour, decided to give up, closing down her laptop and glancing over again, this time her expression softer.

‘I’m gonna put the coffee pot on,’ she’d told him. ‘You want one?’

Damn right he did.

From that point on Amy appeared to accept he was there doing her a favour and, although it might be disturbing her routine somewhat, it would work better if they could get along. That was how he came to be sitting on her couch, drinking a second cup of coffee, eating Oreos and watching reruns of Cheers.

The writer chick was okay. Hot to look at and not bad company either. No wonder Sullivan had been pissed off. Vic hadn’t missed the look he’d given Amy before leaving and suspected he wanted to get into her pants. Sullivan hadn’t wanted him here in the first place, fighting about it with Hickok out on the balcony. At the time Vic had assumed Sullivan hadn’t thought him up to the job, but then he’d seen the look and realised why.

He was a threat.

It would no doubt annoy the hell out of Detective Dixie if he could see Vic and Amy settled in, enjoying each other’s company. He would make sure Sullivan found out about it.

* * *

While Sullivan and Angell met with Amy’s publisher, Joel and Rivers combed the lobby of her apartment block for clues, before interviewing the tenants in the hope someone may have seen whoever had left the rat and the photos.