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“They said yes.”
“Hmmm.”
“Good or bad?”
“More like I’ll need a minute. Are you still going to get a drink?” Nothing to do with the conversation, but I need a moment to text Anita the names. There’s a discrepancy between what the fiancée gave us and these reports. Same name, two different spellings. “I’m going to read through what you have here before asking more questions.”
“Sure. I can go for a coffee.” For a second, his eyes narrow but then relax. “Anything you recommend eating?”
“Sweet or savory?”
“A little hint of both.” I don’t miss the way he licks his bottom lip.
“Try the medianoche sandwich. It’s legit the best I’ve ever had.”
“I’ll do that.” He raps his fist on the table once and stands, pushing his chair back. “Be right back.”
“Take your time.”
Detective Uriel gives me another studying look before turning and walking toward the front. We’re a bit out of sight of the counter and my back is turned to him, so I easily send off a quick text to Anita. Some things don’t make sense; their insistence on my working with them is only a small red flag.
Angling my cell, I take three pictures of each document while pretending to read. Her reply is just as quick, her worry clear.
Got it and already jumping into research. Do you need an out? ~Anita
Fingers tapping a quick not yet on the screen, I hit enter and place the device down before picking up the document with the perpetrator's name and info. As my eyes scroll across pictures from that night, I notice something interesting.
Uriel is smiling. As is the man being arrested.
In fact, they look more as if posing for a picture than someone documenting the altercation that led to this man’s detainment. There’s also the question of who took this photograph, and why was it included in this file?
Usually, you get a booking mugshot and detailed report. That’s it.
“So what do you think? Can you help us?” Uriel says from behind me, close enough that I feel his hip graze my arm. That extra contact wasn’t necessary, and he knows it, but I don’t call him out on it. Not after he sits down. Nor when he takes a bite from the sandwich I suggested.
Instead, I smile, and it isn’t a professional one. Whatever they want, I’m in and have all the time in the world to play.
I’m a woman scorned, vengeful, and who needs an escape from her problems.
“I can and will.”
Grabbing a napkin, he swallows and wipes the corner of his lips. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet…” Uriel’s head tilts a bit to the side, his mouth opening to say something I assume to be positive, but I shake my head “…you will, though. I’ll find them both for you.”
“Both?”
“The officer and perp are equally important, and both have stories to tell. Don’t you think?”
“What if he’s in on it?”
“Then all the more reason to find the guilty, and I won’t rest until I do.”
“Good.” His tone of voice doesn’t agree, though. There’s a hint of something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it raises goose bumps on my arms. “But I’m going to need a final favor if you will.”
“Favor?” That word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Because the last time a man asked me for a favor, it hurt me and people I’ve come to care about like family.
What Ivan asked of me was a test—used my emotions against me.
