Page 20 of XO Karma

“Killian.”

“How may I be of service to you today, sir?” he says flatly, but I laugh anyways. It’s better than his standard “The hell do you want now?”

“I need you to run a plate.”

“Hit me,” he says, and I rattle off the letters and numbers, the clacking of the keyboard coming through the line. He pauses, taking longer than usual. “Why are you having me run this?”

“Since when do you care?”

“Well…” He trails off, and his hesitancy is annoying the hell out of me.

“Spit it out, Killian.”

“The truck belongs to Detective Liam Huxley.”

My brows furrow. Detective Dick? “It wasn’t a police cruiser, it⁠—”

“His personal vehicle.”

“Are you sure?” Given pose fourteen was taken, I assumed it was a woman. Then again, I could be his type too. I’m not one to judge.

“Yes, and that’s all I’ve got.”

“Okay,” I say, wishing for more but happy it’s not less. “Thanks.” And the line goes dead.

Detective Liam Huxley.

I’ve seen him at dozens of crime scenes, and he’s always a bit of an asshole. Dick to reporters, says we’re getting in the way of real investigative work, but I’ve never purposefully spoken to him outside of questioning about an ongoing investigation.

Looks like that’s about to change.

I’m not a patient man, so I may or may not have tipped off the local heroin supplier that their right-hand man was planning a coup. And voila, a crime scene was born.

When I got to the construction site on 47th Street, I almost felt bad upon seeing they’d buried the guy alive in concrete. The only parts of him visible are the back of his head and a hand. But if the intel from my sources is true, that man would have been more dangerous than the current supplier, so it feels like a win-win.

Cleosville PD will be busy chiseling out the body for hours, but it was a good excuse to get to Liam. There’s no way I’m planning a run-in at the police station when I’m unsure of his motives. If he’s watching me, it’s not on the books or he’d have needed a warrant to search my house.

Whatever he’s up to, I don’t like it.

Why is he following me?

Who is he working for?

I can’t imagine he’s doing this out of his own volition. There’s a .02% chance it’s due to my late-night activities. I’m very discreet. Very selective. And very careful.

He’s not yet at the scene, and I remain out of sight along the perimeter. A wave of relief floods through me when he finally shows. After twenty minutes, I hustle over as the first journalist to arrive. Liam’s interviewing the foreman from the construction company where the body was found. The same foreman I paid a little visit to, ensuring he asked specifically for Detective Liam Huxley, unless he’d like to end up like our embedded friend here.

The foreman steps away, and I make my move. “Detective Huxley,” I call out, and he turns to find me, gaze dropping to my press badge, then rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“I don’t have time for interviews,” he says flatly, a hand stuffed in his pocket and zero recognition in his blue eyes as he looks me over. Of all the times he’s blown me off, is he really going to pretend he doesn’t even recognize me? Is it part of his act so I don’t suspect him of casing my house?

“Can you just answer me one question?” I ask, trying to prolong the conversation, holding my tape recorder towards him.

He holds up a finger. “One.”

Shit. I didn’t think this through. “Do you think this was the work of the Kodak Killer?” I blurt and he blinks at me, expression bored.

“When has Kodak left a body behind? I’d think by being the lead journalist on every single article regarding them, you’d be able to answer to that.” So he does know who I am.