The District Page 2

  “Yeah, well about Kendall’s father...”

  “Oops, gotta go, Ma. Have fun at the park and if you have time take Kendall for a shaved ice at that new place. She loves that stuff, even though half the ice ends up in her lap.”

  Her mom shook her head. “You need to get your life in order.”

  “I will. I am. Love you, Ma.”

  She ended the videoconferencing session and shoved the computer off her lap. She hated it when her mother was right.

  She rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Now that she had Charlie Fitch on her side, he’d invited her to the station today to review the report on the latest murder. The Portland P.D. had done some more background on the victim, and she had nothing in common with the previous victim in San Francisco or the woman yesterday—nothing except the tarot cards shoved between their cold, dead fingers.

  And the other tarot card? Had there been another tarot card in the vicinity of the other victims that they’d missed?

  She’d called her bureau chief, Rich Greavy, to report this recent finding, but she had to leave a message for him. The fact that he wouldn’t take her call didn’t surprise her. Even if he didn’t get back to her, she knew he’d give his approval for her to return to the other crime scene in Portland—as long as she stayed out of his hair.

  She showered and changed into yet another pantsuit, the unofficial uniform of the female FBI agent. She paired the beige slacks and jacket with a peach blouse and some sky-high heels. They went well with the .45 she’d strapped to her body.

  Fifteen minutes later, she wheeled her small rental car into the parking lot of the station. She strode through the squad room toward the detectives’ area and knocked on the lieutenant’s door.

  “C’mon in.”

  She poked her head into his office. “Good morning, Charlie. Do you have the reports?”

  “All ready to go.” He tapped some file folders on his desk. “So the Bureau’s sending one of your brethren out here to help you.”

  “Really?” She sealed her lips and fought the warmth that crept into her cheeks. Too late.

  Fitch raised his brows. “You didn’t know?”

  No, because the Western Bureau Chief didn’t believe female agents were competent to handle murder cases on their own.

  “Ah, never got the confirmation.” She shifted her purse from one shoulder to the other. “He’s coming today?”

  He picked up the thick file folders and waved them in the air. “Yep. Told him you’d be here this morning and I’d have the reports ready for the two of you.”

  “Yeah, great. Looks like we’ll be putting together a task force on this case, or at least a task force of two.”

  “Swell.” He dropped the file folders on his blotter.

  And just like that, Greavy had probably wrecked the tentative rapport she’d established with Fitch.

  Leaning over his desk, she scooped up the reports. “If you have someplace for me to sit, I’ll get out of your way and wait for the other agent.”

  “To your right, three doors down there’s an empty office. You’re welcome to use it until your partner in crime fighting shows up.”

  “Thanks, Charlie. Coffee?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Pursing her lips, she glared at the bald spot on his head as he bent over his desk. “I meant for me.”

  Without an ounce of embarrassment, he aimed a stubby finger toward the door. “Back in the squad room.”

  “Thanks a lot.” She clicked his door shut and blew out a breath. Yep, that rapport was totally trashed.

  Her high heels clicked on the linoleum as she hugged the file folders to her chest and made her way back to the squad room.

  Christina balanced the file folders on the edge of the counter and shook a disposable cup loose from a stack.

  “Do you want me to get that for you?”

  Christina glanced over her shoulder at a fresh-faced female cop, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. “I think I got it.”

  The officer reached around Christina for the coffeepot. “That’s okay. You’d better grab those folders instead.”

  Snatching the case files from the counter, Christina laughed. “You’re right. Those almost landed on the floor.”

  “Not that I wouldn’t mind getting a look at them.” The woman aimed a steady stream of steaming brown liquid into Christina’s cup.

  “Is that so, Officer...” She squinted at the cop’s name tag. “Griego?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She replaced the coffeepot on the hot plate. “I’ve been on patrol for two years now, and I’m just itching to take the detective’s exam.”

  “Homicide?”

  “That’s my goal.”

  Christina raised her cup to Officer Griego. “If I need some help, I’ll make a request for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’d appreciate that.”

  As Officer Griego turned away, Christina grimaced and tipped some cream into her cup. You hit thirty and you become ma’am.

  She blew on the surface of her coffee as she made her way back to the office Fitch had indicated before. She dropped the file folders on the desk, leaving the door open behind her. The open-door policy seemed to work better with the police departments, and she just might need Officer Griego’s help.

  She flipped open the covers of the two files and reached for a third tucked into her briefcase. She positioned the case file for the Portland murder next to the other two. The tarot cards and the M.O. tied two murders in San Francisco to the one in Portland. No doubt about it.

  Why only one in Portland and two here? Had they missed a second one in Portland? If these were random, then the killer must’ve been in Portland for business or pleasure. Or maybe he lived in Oregon and San Francisco was the trip away from home, but the Oregon murder had come between the two in the city.

  The close succession of the two murders here had allowed her to see the crime scene for herself this time. When the tarot card had been discovered on the body of the murder victim in Portland, just like it had here, the Bureau had sent her back to San Francisco to follow up.

  Then the killer struck again while she was in the city. Lucky for her—not so much for the victim.

  For the next hour, she buried her nose in the papers in between sips of lukewarm coffee. Nobody had disturbed her until Officer Griego tapped on the office door.

  “Ma’am?”

  Christina looked up and rubbed one eye. “Yes?”

  “The other agent from the Bureau is here.” Griego looked ready to burst with pride as if she’d personally invited him here and tracked her down.

  “Thanks. Send him on over.”

  Officer Griego’s rosy cheeks got rosier. “He’s right...”

  A tall, broad form filled the door behind the tiny officer. “Thanks, Rita. I’ll take it from here.”

  Christina clenched her jaw to keep it from hitting the desk. Then she eked out a tight smile and said hello to Eric Brody, her ex-fiancé, the love of her life and the father of her child.

  Chapter Two

  Christina looked ready to spit nails. Still didn’t detract one bit from her all-around gorgeousness.

  He had the advantage knowing about this meeting beforehand, and if there’s one thing he’d learned about his ex-fiancée it was that if you had an advantage over her—exploit it.

  She reined herself in and the tight lips curved into a tighter smile. “You’re back.”

  “In the flesh.” He spread his arms, spanning the doorway.

  Two spots of color flagged her cheeks and then disappeared almost immediately. She recovered quickly—always had, always would.

  “I heard you were traipsing around Latin America after your...leave of absence.” Her fingers drummed the pa
pers on the desk.

  He kicked the door shut behind him and she jumped. Not so composed after all.

  “I’ve been back in the States about a month. Went straight from drugs to serial killers.”

  “Are you okay with the move?” Her dark, liquid eyes softened as they scanned his face, and her long lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

  The edges of his cold resolve melted just a little. Then he straightened his spine. He’d seen that look before—right before she stabbed him in the back.

  “Why not?” He lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug. “I’m particularly suited to the assignment, don’t you agree? Just like I was particularly suited to the kidnapping detail. Let’s just hope this one ends better.”

  She jumped from her chair, smacking her palms on the desk blotter. “You...”

  He held up his hands.

  She closed her eyes, adjusted the waistband of her slacks and plopped back in her chair. “You look good.”

  His gaze strayed from the perfect oval of her face to her long fingers twisting into knots. He could say the same for her. The masculine pantsuit did nothing to conceal her femininity, and from the way she towered over the desk he knew her feet were slipped into those high heels she loved to wear at the office to remind everyone in this male-dominated field that she was still a woman.

  Not that there could be any doubt about that. Ever.

  “You look good, too. Serial killers agree with you. Of course, they always did. You must be in heaven.”

  A spasm crumpled her face and she shoved the file folders toward him. “Oh, yeah. It’s heaven to see young women like Nora and Olivia cut down in the prime of life by some sick whack job.”

  Heaving out a long sigh, he rolled a leather-bound chair behind him and dropped into it. The war between them was over. He’d ended the engagement, and these battles were unnecessary. “I’m sorry, Christina. That was a low blow. The families of these women are lucky to have you on their cases.”

  Her lips parted and she nodded. Her mouth had lost the tightness and looked totally kissable—and God he could take her in his arms right now and do justice to those luscious lips.

  The lust that slammed him and had him shifting in the squeaky chair hadn’t revved him up like this in over two years—the last time he’d seen Christina Sandoval.

  Greavy was a sadistic SOB to put him on this case with Christina. Of course, Greavy had no idea the homicide in San Diego he’d assigned to Eric as soon as he joined the unit would be linked to Christina’s three cases in Portland and San Francisco. This guy got around.

  Clearing his throat, he folded his arms behind his head and tipped back in his chair, making it squeak even more. “Did Rich tell you why I was coming out?”

  “Rich didn’t tell me you were coming out at all.”

  “I mean, did he tell you why another agent was joining you?”

  “Typical Greavy. I haven’t spoken to him in person since he sent me to Portland. I had to find out another agent was coming to assist me from Lieutenant Fitch over there.” She spun the file folders around to face him. “And here you are.”

  He cocked his head. “Greavy didn’t tell you about the other case in San Diego?”

  “There was another murder in San Diego? Same M.O.?”

  “Yep.”

  A flare of anger turned her cheeks red. “I’m assuming the killer stuck the tarot card with the maiden and lion between the vic’s fingers. Three murders up here, three tarot cards.”

  “This is where it gets weird. The body had a tarot card between his fingers, all right, but it wasn’t that lion one.”

  Christina’s eyes widened. “Let me guess. It was a tarot card with a fool on it.”

  Eric leaned forward and the front wheels of his chair hit the floor where it skidded a few inches to the right. “How’d you know that?”

  “I canvased the area where we found the most recent victim, Nora Sterling. I thought I had a pretty good idea where the killer was hiding before he attacked her—up a tree. I climbed the tree and found the card.”

  “What made you climb the tree?” But he didn’t have to ask. Christina always claimed she could get into the head of a killer. He still didn’t know if he believed her or not, but it could come in handy in this case if she could.

  “Just...umm, a feeling and some damage to the bark on the trunk.”

  “Do you have the card here?” He shuffled through the papers in the case folders.

  “It’s in evidence.”

  “Prints?”

  “None.”

  Eric whistled through his teeth. “I wonder if there were any more tarot cards near the body in San Diego.”

  “I was wondering the same thing about the murder in Portland and the first one here.” She tapped a pencil against her chin and then dropped it. “Wait. Did you say the victim in San Diego was male?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Was the body found outdoors? Bludgeoned and then throat slit?”

  “Nope—indoors, no bludgeoning, but his throat was slit. He lost an amazing amount of blood that soaked into the carpet and the floorboards beneath.”

  “Same with the other victims. They suffered a lot of blood loss.” She curled her fingers around the arms of the chair. “So the M.O. was a little different for the male victim.”

  “We did find some drugs and alcohol in his system, so maybe the killer incapacitated him that way and didn’t have to hit him over the head.”

  “That suggests he knew him or had some kind of contact with him before the murder. That doesn’t seem to be the case at all with the women.”

  Christina sucked in her bottom lip, which she always did when she was thinking. She couldn’t just be trying to focus his attention on her mouth, could she? Because he couldn’t keep his eyes, or his nasty thoughts, off her lips.

  “What could possibly be the connection between these four people?”

  Clearing his throat, he scratched the stubble on his chin. “I guess it’s up to us to find the connections, because they have to be there.”

  “Us. There hasn’t been an us for a long time.”

  “I think we can be adults and work together.” As soon as he could get his mind out of the gutter.

  “Sure.” She folded her hands on the desk. “How’s your family?”

  “Fine. Yours? How’s your mother?”

  “She’s doing well, busy.”

  “Busy? I thought she retired from nursing.”

  Christina’s hands got fidgety again, stacking papers and lining up pencils. She’d never been the nervous type before. She’d always had a cool, calm demeanor. As cold as ice—except in the bedroom.

  Seeing him had rattled her.

  His response to her had surprised him, too. He accepted the fact that he’d never forget Christina, no matter what she’d done to him, but he’d believed he could tame the visceral reaction she’d always elicited from him. Not so much.

  He dragged his gaze away from her puckered lips as she blew a strand of dark hair from her face.

  “She did retire, but she picked up a bunch of hobbies.”

  “Good for her.” He pointed at the folders. “How about it? Do you want to get a couple of sandwiches delivered and dig in to what we got?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll ask our new best friend, Officer Griego, for some suggestions.”

  “Yeah, there’s some hero worship going on there.”

  “You always did have the ladies fawning over you.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “I was talking about you. From the minute she volunteered to take me to you, it was Agent Sandoval this, Agent Sandoval that.”

  Christina gave an unladylike snort. “Did you set her straight?”

  “I didn’t have time.”

>   Her nostrils flared as she reached for the phone and punched the speaker button and three other buttons. “Hi, Officer Griego. Can you recommend a good take-out place in the area for lunch?”

  “One of the sergeants is taking orders now for the deli down the street. I’ll send him over.”

  “That would be great. Menu?”

  “I’ll bring one to you.”

  Christina rolled her eyes at him. “That’s not necessary. We’ll come out and have a look.”

  “That’s okay, ma’am. I know you and Agent Brody are busy. I’ll bring the menu right in. Sarge won’t mind.”

  “Thanks, Officer Griego.” She pressed the speaker button and ended the call.

  Eric twisted his lips into a smile. “I’m sure Sarge will mind catering to the two fibbies in his midst.”

  “They seem okay with me here, so far. Have you met Lieutenant Fitch yet? I had him eating out of my hand yesterday, but he turned cold once he knew you were on the way.”

  “I don’t get these guys. They should be happy for the help. My brother Ryan always is.”

  “Is he still working up the coast in Crestview?”

  “Yep.”

  Officer Griego peered through the window waving the menu and knocked on the door.

  Eric scooted his chair back and opened the door. “C’mon in.”

  She thrust the menu at him. “It’s pretty basic.”

  “That’s what we like—basic.” He tossed the menu to Christina.

  Wrinkling her nose, she ran the tip of her finger down the glossy page. “I’ll take the California on sourdough, but...”

  “No mayo and extra pickles.” Eric finished for her.

  She tilted her head, her shiny, dark ponytail slipping over her shoulder. “That predictable, huh?”

  Warmth spread through his chest. He hadn’t meant to finish her sentence, didn’t want her to know how much he remembered.

  “Well, you always were kind of picky.”

  Rita was standing at the door hanging on their every word, wide-eyed.

  Eric glanced at the menu and handed it back to her saying, “The Italian, fries and a drink—something with caffeine.”