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I’ll research what I can find out about him both from public online sites and databases and what I can find here at the station, but anything I look up on a work laptop is subject to investigation. Practically a goddamn fishbowl. So I’ll have to be selective and careful.
I blink in surprise when I realize I listened to the rest of my messages without actually hearing any of them. My God. That isn’t me. That isn’t what I do. I’m fastidious and factual, a classic perfectionist. I don’t… just stop paying attention. God.
I replay my messages a bit sheepishly, ashamed that I allowed myself to lose focus, and over a man. I return a few calls, take down more information, and look at some promising notes on intel that came back from some leads I’d followed before I left the office.
I should go through my case files and plan my day. I have at least three witnesses I need to interview and a suspect from Saturday’s murder. The guy’s lawyered up, though, and the last time I tried to interview him he didn’t want to talk, but the latest call from his attorney is promising. He’s probably formulated his answer.
But I don’t want to touch these cases. I don’t want to do interviews. I want to find out everything I can about the Rossi family and now.
I pick up my phone and dial one of the interns.
She answers on the first ring. “Detective King?”
“Hey,” I say, trying to put a smile in my voice. “Can I ask you to do me a favor?”
Punting my jobs to anyone else is probably the last way for me to get a promotion, but right now, I have bigger fish to fry. I give her my primary suspect’s name and the attorney’s phone number, then ask her to record the responses. I’ll go over those… later.
“Yes, ma’am, of course, ma’am!” She’s an eager little beaver. I wince at the ma’am but let it slide. I’m not even thirty for Christ’s sake but I am far above her in rank so it’s fine.
I shove away the distinct feeling that I’m shirking my duty. I shouldn’t be shuffling intel for a murder investigation off onto someone else.
But it’s the Rossi family…
Some days I wish I had more of a “made for TV” detective job, but then some days truth is stranger than fiction. Still, a day in the life of a crime scene detective means interviews, interviews, and more interviews. I’ll have to put the power of persuasion into some of them and above all, the power of observation. But right now… I have Rossi family intel to dig up.
And that trumps everything.
I look at the folder on my desk, and even a cursory glance shows conflicting information’s come in on one of my cases. Another confirms what I already knew from the evidence—a strong case of suicide versus homicide—and I don’t look forward to breaking that information to the family.
Mario Rossi. Mario. Soft lips and a seductive voice that melted every reserve I ever had, a thick wad of cold, hard cash, a fast, luxurious ride, and a weapon he was all too familiar with.
I close my eyes.
The warm feel of his calloused hand, secure and reassuring, on the small of my back. The weight of his body over mine, our naked bodies pressed together like an embrace, sultry and heated and so natural it felt like breathing. The perfectly stretched feel of him inside me, filling me until every inch of my body felt owned by him…
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose when my phone rings. I answer on the second ring, willing myself to stay calm and professional. “Detective King.”
I take the call and listen to my intern, but it’s the usual intel. One witness’s interview contradicts his previous one. The excitement in her voice tells me she thinks this means something, that it’s a dead giveaway that he’s the suspect in the case. I speak as patiently as I can.
“It’s fairly common, to tell you the truth. Witnesses under duress or stress at the time often misremember details. You’ll find it more common than not, but the key is to continue to press for more information and use our resources to determine what’s truth and what isn’t.”
She sighs, deflated. “Yes, ma’am, will do.”
When I hang up the phone, Grady is standing in the doorway. I blink in surprise but quickly school my features. Or try to.
I despise this man.
“Did I take you by surprise, Emma? Must’ve been an important call. It’s completely unlike you to not know who’s coming before they even darken the shadow of your door.”
He gives me that snake-like smile I’m so familiar with, then sidles the rest of the way into my office.
