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“You’re gonna get us killed,” I murmur behind my hand. “Go find out where the sketch is at. We have three in three days. Probably means there’ll be a fourth tonight. If we don’t get our shit together and move faster, that other fucker might step in and do it for us.”
“The vigilante?” Fletch only shrugs. “You won’t see me complain. Saves us the time and paperwork if he does it for us.”
I snarl at my partner’s easy acceptance for the killer we have on our streets.
Why the fuck am I the only one who has a problem with this?
“We have to pull the names of the graduating class they all share,” I push on through gritted teeth. “We’ll find our next target on that list. Chances are, we’ll find our killer, too.”
“Class nerd turned down by all the pretty girls,” Fletchtsks. “He had a shitty high school experience. Nobody wanted to date him. Class reunion a few months back—maybe those same girls rejected him again. Mommy dearest still breastfeeds him, she tells him how perfect he is and how any woman would be lucky to have him. Except, the girls consistently say no.”
“Eventually,” I add, “he got sick of the rejections. Now he’s gonna hurt them.”
“Doesn’t even try to feel them up,” Fletch continues. “Like, an asshole might slip a girl a roofie and take his pleasure. Take back his control and power. But this guy is a straight-up coward. Doesn’t wanna touch them. Doesn’t wanna fuck them. He’s skipped straight to punishing them. And punishment comes within minutes of their final rejection. He sees them in the club, or in the park, or down at the bay. Maybe he makes a move. Woman says no, so he jabs them. Within minutes, it’s lights out.”
“Within minutes,” my eyes slide away from him when Minka’s phone trills, “we lose a familiar face.”
In the office, Minka is mid-rant, mid-tear-that-motherfucker-apart. But at the shrill bleat of the phone on her desk, her words cut off, and Patrick—the EMT who is kind of innocent in all this—relaxes fractionally.
“Go away.” She throws her hand in the direction of the door. “Get out of my sight. But I’ll be back for you all until I’m satisfied this never happens again.”
Immediately, the crowd darts through the door and escapes—all except Aubree, who sits on the couch and buries her face in her hands as her boss crosses to the phone.
“Whoever this guy is,” I speak to Fletch, but I move toward the door as it slowly starts to close, “he took our friend away. He took moms from their sons. And he took the easy way out, punishing them without even standing up and letting them know why. He’s a pussy, and he doesn’t deserve a single one of the women he’s pursued.”
I step into Minka’s office and draw Aubree’s eye. At the desk, Minka’s tone is harsh and quick. She’s pissed, and Aubree screwed up.
The younger woman can act aloof most of the time. Silly and carefree. But she wants Minka’s approval, and today, that was smashed beyond recognition in the single beat of a dead guy’s heart.
“Can we have the office, Aubs?” I move closer and keep my voice down while Minka talks on the phone. “Go for a five-minute walk and shake it off.”
“I would’ve cut open a man who wasn’t dead.”
“You wouldn’t have.” I take her hand and gently pull her to standing. “You would’ve gone through the checklist before making your first cut. You would’ve figured it out.”
I lead her toward the door and hold it open, though she doesn’t pass through. “You’re a good doctor, Aubs. This was a freak accident, one in a zillion, and unlikely to ever happen again on your watch.”
“No shit it won’t,” Minka snarls.
I glance across in time to catch her furious stare. Then she startles and looks down to her desk. “Yes, Mr. Lawrence, I’m here. Thank you.”
“Go.” I give Aubree a gentle nudge out the door. “Go with Fletch and get something to eat. Get your head on straight and remember she’s only mad because she cares.”
“She cares that I screwed up?” Aubree’s blue eyes glisten. “Because I disappointed her?”
“She cares because she knows you’re damn good at what you do. You didn’t even get a chance to cut yet, Aubree. The fact that the system broke down and youcouldhave gotten to the cutting meant your career was at risk. She doesn’t want you to lose it all over someone else’s mistake.”
Pushing her out the door and watching as she stops by her desk for a moment, I nod my approval when she snags her phone and some cash from her top drawer.
She’s going to get coffee, and I get to de-escalate Minka’s temper.
Again.
Turning back, I let the door close behind me and make my way to the visitor chair opposite from where Minka stands. And since I’m an ass, I lean closer and hit speaker on the phone, until Justin Lawrence’s commanding voice fills the office, and Minka’s fiery stare hits me square in the middle of my chest.
“Jen said she’d be free to call you around noon,” Lawrence says. “She’s in a meeting till then, but I expressed how time-sensitive this is, so she promises to make the call just as soon as she’s clear.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lawrence. Did you, uh…” She flops into her seat and presses her hands to her face. “I’m not sure if you heard yet, but seeing as you will eventually, you should know there was an incident down here at the George Stanley this morning.”
