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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“What a pleasant surprise,” Costabile said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as they disentangled themselves. “Slumming it?”
Jessie did her best to hide her discomfort but knew that he’d likely seen a flash of anxiety cross her face. Up close in the full light of day, the guy was even more imposing than he seemed last night. He was clearly a weightlifting fan, with thick, muscled biceps and forearms and a neck like a small tree trunk. His slight paunch was masked by his massive chest, which seemed to jut forward independent of the rest of his body.
“Just following up on a lead,” she said vaguely, though she was certain he knew why she was here.
“Oh yeah?” he asked with malicious glee. “Is your lead sober yet?”
Jessie knew guys like this. As much as he was enjoying screwing with her, he was also trying to keep her off balance so that she wouldn’t focus on whatever it was he was clearly hiding. She decided her best option was to be equally as aggressive.
“Let me ask you a question, Sergeant. What would happen if a relative failed to claim the body of their deceased loved one after being notified of the death?”
Costabile smiled malevolently.
“That would depend on the particular circumstances, Ms. Hunt. Unfortunately, if you’re referring to the case from last night, there was an unfortunate mishap.”
Jessie’s heart sank, though she wasn’t surprised. The second Keith Penn had mentioned claiming Michaela’s remains, she’d suspected something sketchy was going on.
“What was that?” she asked.
“It seems that the paperwork on Michaela Penn got misfiled and her remains were inadvertently cremated.”
Jessie stared hard at him. Even having suspected what he’d been about to say, it was hard to keep the fury off her face. She took a long, slow exhale before responding.
“That is unfortunate,” she replied evenly. “Under other circumstances, I’d find cremating the body of a murder victim less than twenty-four hours after her death to be suspicious. But I guess that’s just par for the course for Valley Bureau, right? Always bumbling and stumbling your way through major cases.”
“Yup,” Costabile agreed, his bald pate gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “We’re just a bunch of Keystone Cops around here. I was just going to share the sad news with Mr. Penn, who I understand was picked up on a DUI in our own jurisdiction last night. What a wacky coincidence.”
Jessie remembered the old cliché about discretion being the better part of valor and tried to force herself to embrace it. If Ryan was here right now, he’d make a bland comment and lead her out of the station before she could get herself in trouble. But Ryan was in a downtown courtroom right now testifying in a case. She was on her own. And she wasn’t feeling much in the way of discretion.
“You know, Sergeant,” she growled as she leaned in close to him. “I know you’re up to no good, mostly because you’re barely even trying to hide it. And I know you’ve had free rein around here for a long time. But it’s made you sloppy and arrogant. One of these days, it’s going to catch up to you, maybe sooner than you think.”
“Is that a threat, Ms. Hunt?” he snarled back at her.
“It’s merely an observation, Sergeant.”
Suddenly Costabile leaned in, so that his face was only inches from hers.
“You know, little lass,” he whispered so quietly that she had to strain to hear him, “if I was you, I’d be less worried about what some Podunk Valley cop was up to. I’d be more focused on watching your own back.”
“Is that a threat, Sergeant Costabile?” Jessie retorted.
“Yes, it is. Go back to your fancy downtown station and stick to your sexy serial killer cases. It’s safer for you than messing with me.”
Jessie’s heart was beating fast but her voice was calm when she replied.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” she said.
Then, without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and walked away. It was only when she had rounded the corner that she realized she’d been holding her breath the whole time.
*
Jessie tried not to speed.
She kept having to remind herself not to floor the accelerator on her drive back up the winding road to the home of the porn director Giles Marchand. But her restlessness kept getting the better of her. There was too much to do and not enough time to do it.
She still had to question the director of Nympho Cheerleader Zombies 2 to see what insight he could offer into Michaela’s last day alive. In addition, she was flying through a flurry of calls.
