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“Uh-huh. Talk.”
He could tell by her no-nonsense tone he was now addressing Sgt. Sherry Newsome of the Denver Police Department.
“I’ve got an UNSUB believed to have killed a woman, now terrorizing another. I’ll upload the case file to you as soon as I get to my hotel. I need to know if his pattern fits any open cases in Colorado, Nebraska or Wyoming.”
“Shit, you’re not asking for much, are you?”
“Do I ever?”
“Only every damn time. Are you working with the locals on this?”
“There’s an evening at Silvio’s in it for you and the puppy collector.”
“Damn. You’re gonna get me fired one of these days.”
He shrugged. “Hey, what are friends for?”
“Technically, you’re Carl’s best friend, not mine. But I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Thanks, Sherry, I owe you.”
“Believe me, I keep a running tally.”
Jake clicked off as he pulled onto the highway. The killer could have left the door hanger when he’d rummaged around the house. But if that was the case, why break the stained-glass front door?
Could the killer have been there during the storm? From his vantage point in the drive, Jake had kept visual contact of Claire through the windows but couldn’t see the kitchen door.
It all came down to the phone and flash drive. What the fuck was Burlington hiding? Time to find out. He pushed the phone’s voice-activation button.
“Call Burlington.”
Chapter Eight
Beth lowered her sunglasses. “Well, looky who’s waiting for you.”
Claire spotted Jake and sank down in the passenger seat of Beth’s Mini Cooper as they pulled into Harvest’s nearly empty parking lot.
“Why won’t he just go away?” She groaned at the sight of Jake lazing against his SUV’s bumper. Dark aviator sunglasses covered his eyes, but his full lips were turned up in a smirk. He tipped his head their way. Claire’s belly went gooey. Hell, the man’s hard body wrapped up in tight blue jeans screamed “fuck me”. Her fingers itched to drag his zipper down and slide the denim off his muscular legs, before doing exactly that.
She forced her gaze away from him and turned her mind from the fantasies he inspired. Concentrating on the asphalt at his feet, still bearing ugly black marks from the Jeep fire, helped slow the lust streaming through her body.
“I told him about your interlude with the shotgun during the storm.” Beth examined her French manicure, studiously avoiding Claire’s penetrating gaze.
Claire’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“I saw him at the Stop and Sip this morning. He ordered a large black coffee and picked up the tab for my mocha. I think that was nice, don’t you?” She looked up, her heart-shaped face plastered with false purity.
Claire glared at her best friend. Beth might be many things, but sweet and innocent were not two of them. “Spill.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Okay. Look, I know we,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “hate him. But you really like this guy, even if you’re not ready to say it out loud.”
“I don’t even know this guy!”
Beth shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes love works like that.”
“You’re thinking about my love life?” Claire waved her hands in the air as she searched for a valid argument to change Beth’s mind. “You know I do have more important things going on right now, like a psycho killer stalking me.”
Claire hoped she sounded more convincing to Beth than she did to her own ears. Beth arched a thinly waxed brow.
