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Seventh Avenue
Birmingham
“I understand this is asking a lot.” Kerri kept her hands clasped tightly around her mug of coffee and waited for her partner’s reaction. She’d asked him to meet her at the coffee shop across the street from Tori’s school.
Falco’s arms rested against the scarred Formica top, his untouched coffee abandoned next to the napkin holder. “I got no problem covering for you, Devlin.” He shook his head. “You don’t even have to ask. But I need to know you can do this on your own without crossing the line.”
He had every right to be concerned. She’d crossed the line last year on their first case together. Who was she kidding? She hadn’t simply crossed that line; she’d hurdled over it as if she were racing toward some unseen finish line. She had killed a man. Depending upon how closely you looked, what she’d done could be considered self-defense. If shehad not chosen to go after the bastard on her own—unofficially—the situation would not have happened. Take your pick: self-defense or cold-blooded murder?
Falco and Sadie Cross knew what had happened that day. Both had helped to ensure Kerri’s secret was safe.
Except ... no secret was ever truly safe. She pushed the thought aside and promised, “I’ll be careful. I won’t makethatmistake again.”
Falco picked up his coffee and seemed to consider whether it would taste as old and overheated as it smelled. “Anything you do could damage the investigation and reflect badly on Tori.”
“I’m aware. I just need to know that every rock has been turned over and every potential lead followed through to the end. I can’t sit back and risk that something will be missed.” Any mother in her position would do the same. “I’ll stay in the background. Sykes and Peterson won’t have a clue I’m checking up on them.”
Falco dared to take a sip of the coffee, then made a face. “With the DEA lead in our case, we’re not likely to get more than busywork. The stuff no one else wants to do, like checking all the p’s and q’s related to Kurtz. I can handle that.” His gaze settled onto hers once more. “The LT will never know you’re not taking every step I take. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want.” Leaving Tori at school this morning had been one of the hardest things Kerri had ever done. But Tori had wanted to go. Like Kerri, Tori understood that her absence would only lend credibility to the rumors.
“All right.” Falco set the coffee aside. “But we keep each other informed. It’s the only way to properly cover our asses. If something happens to one of us, the other will be up to speed. We’re less likely to get caught that way.”
“Agreed.”
“No keeping secrets,” he reiterated.
“No secrets.” Secrets led to mistakes. She wasn’t going there again.
Falco nodded. “Okay. I’ll get those final two on the Kurtz list interviewed. What’s your first step?”
“I have a friend who works at Walker Academy.”
Calling Sue Grimes a friend was a stretch. They’d gone to high school together, but they hadn’t been close. Getting a list of the staff members had been easy enough from the website. Sue was the librarian. She might not have worked directly with Alice Cortez or either of the students who had attempted suicide, but she would have heard the talk among the teachers. She certainly would have known the students and perhaps their parents. Though it was preferable to go to a direct source, talking to Grimes was less likely to get her caught, since the detectives on the case would be questioning the teachers and staff who interacted directly with Cortez and the others—assuming they bothered to check out Cortez’s background. At this point Kerri wasn’t convinced about the thoroughness of her colleagues.
But that was the mother in her—not the detective—obsessing on the idea. Sykes and Peterson weren’t bad detectives.
“I want to hear from you at noon,” Falco urged. “Maybe we can rendezvous for lunch.”
“Sounds good.” Kerri felt a weight lift from her chest. Having her partner onboard was a genuine relief. Not that she’d expected him to say no, but the fact that he hadn’t pushed the idea of her actions being a mistake gave her a better sense of balance.
When she would have scooted from the booth, he placed a hand on her arm. “Be careful, Devlin. I like having you as a partner.”
She smiled. “Same here.”
Kerri felt as if she were drowning in a case that wasn’t hers and a situation that grew more dire for her daughter each day.
Walker Academy
Daniel Payne Drive
Birmingham, 10:00 a.m.
Unlike Brighton Academy, which was in a historic building, Walker was a fairly new build. The school had been around for decades but in a different location. Walker was, as was Brighton, a top-notch private school. Brighton, however, was attended by the children of the elite of Jefferson County. Walker had its share of the offspring belonging to doctors and lawyers, but the real power sent their kids to Brighton.
Kerri flattened the visitor’s pass onto the lapel of her jacket as she walked the central corridor of the main building. The offices, cafeteria, nurse’s station, and library were all housed in this building.
The library stood at the end of the corridor, its glass front filled with posters about books and upcoming reading events. Inside was as hushed as a tomb. The space was fairly massive with a ceiling that soared well over twelve feet. Rows and rows of shelves packed with books, and desks loaded with state-of-the-art computers filled both sides. Near the back was a staircase that went up to a mezzanine level, where more books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. On this first level to the right of the staircase were rows of tables surrounded by chairs, some occupied with students, heads stuck in their chosen reads.
