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“There’s another damn murder?”
“There is another damn murder,” I confirm.
“Obviously, you don’t have a grip on this situation. We need to meet tomorrow morning. I’m going to have to have another damn press conference.”
“You can have it on your own. And if I may suggest,” I say, all sticky sweet, and sugary, “Father—just a gentle suggestion of course, because you know what you are doing—obviously.” I shift to my normal smart-ass voice. “Perhaps you shouldn’t challenge the killer in a public forum and use me as your token tool. Because he just said a public ‘fuck you’ to you and me, and from what I’m being told, it’s a really nastyfuck you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll let you know on the other side of the crime scene I’m about to walk in.” I disconnect and kick off my heels which are far from appropriate for what is obviously a messy crime scene. Once they’re off, there’s no place to put them, so I just leave them where they lie.
Ready to get this over with, I exit from behind the curtain to find the guy who’d handed me the jumpsuit standing there, staring at me.
“Do we have boots? I don’t want to walk the crime scene in high heels.”
He points to a big box and I hunt for the smallest pair I can find. When it’s all said and done, my heels are on a table and my feet are firmly on the ground, and this dude is still staring at me. I can only assume he admires my sense of style in and out of the jumpsuit so I say, “I left my shoes behind the curtain. Don’t try them on. Don’t let anyone else try them on. Don’t let anyone take them. They’re Jimmy Choos.”
“You’re that agent who’s the governor’s daughter.”
“He’s not the governor yet,” I say. “Details matter,” I add. “Detailsmatter. Like chocolate and good shampoo. Try Biolage. It’s very moisturizing, though a basic Head and Shoulders can work wonders. It did for my brother.” With that, I walk out of the room and discover Jack the Ripper is waiting for me.
Chapter Eleven
Jack isn’t just waiting on me, he has in his possession a black leather bag hanging from his shoulder and another hard case in his hand. I have no idea from where he produced these items. I sure as heck don’t have my field bag. It’s at home, where it should be because tonight wasn’t supposed to end with me dressed up for a crime scene.
I walk right past Jack and he catches up with me in a few long strides.
“I know this isn’t aScreamkilling,” he says, “but what if he’s telling us that’s what comes next?”
I cut him an irritated look. “I might have found out, had you not helped him get away.”
“Yes, sorry about that. I really thought I was helping. I had no idea what was going on.”
“Exactly, which is why you never pull that kind of bullshit in or around a crime scene.” We’re now at the elevator, and I punch the up button only to realize I have no idea what floor I’m going to. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Ten,” he says. “The victim’s name is Sherman Lee. Lee is the last name, not a middle name. He’s forty-seven and a high-ranking VP at Mid-City Bank.”
The elevator opens and I walk inside, punching floor ten on the keypad. He’s right by my side, already talking again. “That’s all I know. I haven’t had time to research connections between the prior victims and the diner, but it’s interesting that this location is outside of the close proximity of the prior victims, don’t you think?”
I don’t answer him. I reach inside the jumpsuit and pull my phone from my purse, which is still at my hip. Once it’s in hand, I unlock my keyboard and shoot off a text to Tic Tac:There was another murder, and I didn’t commit it despite being with my father tonight. Sherman Lee. 47. VP Mid-City Bank. I’m walking into the crime scene now.
I look up and the doors are open, making an obnoxious beeping sound, and Jack is holding them so they won’t close. “Tic Tac?” he asks.
I lift a finger at him. “You are way too in my business,” I say before I step into the hallway.
“About that,” he says, joining me yet again. “I want to apprentice for you. How do I make that happen? Or just be your assistant. I can make your life easier.”
“Says the guy who just helped the killer get away.”
Two cops approach and stop in front of us, both of them pale with tight lips. One punches the elevator button and the other murmurs, “It’s ugly in there. Be prepared.” With that, they both move on.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen everyone in blue shaken at a crime scene, but there is something about everyone’s eyes tonight that I can only callhaunted.My cellphone buzzes and I glance at it in my hand to read Tic Tac’s reply:What the hell? I just saw online someone tried to kill your father.
I reply with:And Kane saved him. Nothing is as it should be tonight. More later.I stick my phone back in my purse, which is about as natural as adjusting your bra in public, but we’ve all had to do it. I start walking and Jack says, “About me helping you—”
I halt and look at him and he’s barely above eye level. He’s short-ish. The freak in the mask was not. Not that Jack is on my radar. I’ve promised myself to set him aside for now and I’m going to do just that “Help me by being quiet,” I say, my voice a low shout, which makes more sense if you’ve ever been pissed at someone in a library or a movie theatre. I have.
At the library, some guy got aggressive with me over the latest Stephen King novel, and my competition didn’t even look like he could read. I had two options. Take him down or shut him down. Quietly. I preferred option one but I settled for two.
