Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 3

  He pulled some lip balm from his pocket and swiped it across his dry lips. It couldn’t help his dry throat though. Damn, he hated these IDs with the parents. Having Kyra Chase with him might help though he didn’t have to like her involvement in any other aspect of the case.

  She’d been there that day—the day he’d gone off on Lizbeth Kruger at the station. The day he’d been reprimanded for his behavior. He didn’t give a damn—then or now. He’d do it all over again. Even though it hadn’t solved anything, hadn’t brought back Jacinda, giving Lizbeth a piece of his mind had assuaged his fury. Or at least for that day. His rage had become a living thing inside him, something to tame on some days and something to give vent to on others.

  Man, he needed a visit with Fiona.

  He strode to the elevator, his suit jacket draped over one arm. He and Kyra planned to meet early near the front door so they could intercept the Lindquists when they arrived for the sad ritual available to the families of homicide victims. Some didn’t want or need the last look at their loved one, and in this day of DNA the in-person ID wasn’t necessary.

  Kyra had to be an old pro at this, although she barely looked older than twenty-five. How’d she manage to look so fresh when hundreds of patients must’ve poured thousands of sorrows in her ears? Maybe it didn’t affect her. Maybe he could learn something from her.

  Nah. Therapists were full of it. How do you feel about that, Jake? How the hell did they think he felt and how would talking about it change anything?

  Not that his old man was a role model, but Jake could understand drowning in the booze. Not the other stuff, but the booze. Hell, he could name ten cops right now who coped that way.

  The elevator doors opened and he crossed over to the coroner’s office. He slipped into his jacket as he caught sight of Kyra, standing by the door looking cool in her beige skirt and white blouse. She liked white. It made her look...icy.

  A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled her clipped tone during their phone conversation earlier today. He’d decided to add the personal touch by calling instead of texting; she hadn’t seemed to appreciate his effort.

  He’d stung her pride last night when he captured her purse and gun. To be fair, if she were out there on her own and a strange man approached her, she wouldn’t let him get that close. Hadn’t she drawn down on him when he came traipsing along the trail? Yeah, he’d give her credit for that.

  “Good morning.” He kept his distance this time, eyeing the leather satchel slung over her shoulder. Did she have her little .22 in there, too?

  “Morning.” Her blue eyes flicked over him, and he could feel the chill.

  He sure hoped she warmed up for victims’ families, or she’d be no use to him at all. Verona had sung her praises, but Verona could be wooed by a pretty face and a nice pair of legs. Jake’s gaze dropped to the hem of Kyra’s knee-length skirt and below. Yep, she had those.

  She cleared her throat. “David and Marie should be here any minute. Is the medical examiner ready for us?”

  Jake jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I can check at the desk to make sure.”

  Jake looked in at the desk where the receptionist assured him the coroner was expecting the Lindquists. The coroner would conduct the autopsy tomorrow. It was always better if the relatives could ID the victim before the autopsy.

  As he walked back to Kyra, a middle-aged couple walked through the front doors. Even without an introduction, he knew they were the Lindquists due to their zombie-like appearance. They shuffled into the lobby, the woman with a dazed look on her face and the man drained of all color and life.

  Kyra launched forward to greet them, shaking their hands.

  By the time Jake joined the group, they seemed like old friends. Kyra turned to him. “Mr. and Mrs. Lindquist, this is Detective Jake McAllister. He’s the lead detective on Kelsey’s case. Detective McAllister, this is David and Marie Lindquist.”

  Jake shook David’s hand and gave it an extra squeeze just to try to infuse some strength into him. He took a gentler approach with Marie. He cupped her thin hand in both of his. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “C-can we ask you some questions about Kelsey’s death?” Marie’s gaze darted to her husband’s face and back to Jake’s.

  Did the two of them have a different approach to how they wanted to handle this? He could understand that. It was a strong marriage that survived the murder of a child.

  “I’ll tell you what I can, Mrs. Lindquist. There’s some information we don’t release—even to the family. It gives us a better chance of finding her killer.”

  “That’s what we want.” David’s watery blue irises were barely distinguishable from the whites of his eyes.

  Kyra placed a hand on Marie’s arm. “Are you ready? You know, you don’t have to do this. You’re going to provide her dental records, and that should be enough.”

  Jake slanted a quick glance at Kyra. Although he knew it would be hard on them, he wanted the Lindquists to ID their daughter this way. They’d have her dental records, her DNA, her picture, but the personal identification seemed to bring some reality to the victims’ families, and it also opened up the floodgates sometimes where law enforcement could glean some valuable information for the case. As a victims’ rights advocate, Kyra should know this. Maybe she cared more about the families’ feelings than catching the killer. In his experience, nailing the bad guy brought peace to the families more than any therapy could.

  Marie shook her head. “We need to do this. It wouldn’t seem right to let Kelsey take this part of her journey alone. Does that make sense?”

  David stared at the dull linoleum floor as if nothing in his life made sense anymore.

  Kyra slipped an arm around Marie’s shoulders. “It makes perfect sense.”

  With that settled, at least for Marie, they moved toward the elevator. Jake brought up the rear as he herded the group into the car and stabbed the button for the basement.

  In a quiet voice, Kyra asked Marie questions about Kelsey on the ride down.

  David murmured to Jake, “Kelsey’s murder is connected to that other case two weeks ago?”

  “We think so, yeah. We’re forming a task force.” Jake dipped his head to David’s. “We’ll get the bastard who did this.”

  When the elevator settled on the floor, Jake smacked his hand against the door, holding it open for everyone. He’d misjudged Kyra. Marie was hanging on to her like a lifeline, probably confiding things to her about Kelsey she hadn’t thought of in years.

  That proved it. Kyra Chase was just cold toward him.

  They stopped at the door to the morgue, and Jake pressed the button on the outside to announce their presence. A coroner’s assistant opened the door, and the chill in the room reached out to grab them. It didn’t repel Jake, though. It seemed to suck him inside the room.

  “Hello, Detective McAllister, Ms. Chase.”

  Jake’s gaze dropped to the attendant’s badge. “Sean, this is Mr. and Mrs. Lindquist.”

  They had stepped inside, and David looked like he could use Kyra’s support even more than Marie could. Jake had witnessed a few grown men keel over in this space, and he didn’t blame them.

  At least Sean had taken Kelsey from the drawer. Her body lay covered with a white sheet. They already knew it was Kelsey from the picture on her driver’s license left in her car. Her parents had provided a more recent picture, too.

  Would he insist on ID’ing the body at the morgue if it were his daughter? Probably, and then he’d insist on fifteen minutes alone with her killer.

  Sean cleared his throat. “Are you ready? I’m just going to show her face.”

  He flicked back the white sheet, and Marie gave a quick gasp.

  Jake’s eyes swept across the face of the young woman, all life drained from her body. He blinked, for a minute seeing light brown hair and
freckles. “Is this your daughter?”

  “Yes, that’s Kelsey.” Marie’s voice rang in the room, loud enough to wake the dead in their drawers.

  David sniffed and staggered back, his shoulders rounding. The man was going to fold in on himself if Jake didn’t get him out of here.

  He clasped David’s shoulder. “You can leave, Mr. Lindquist.”

  “Wait.” David shrugged off his hand. “That can’t be her. That’s not my daughter.”

  Uh-oh. He’d waited too late to get David out of the room. He was having a full meltdown.

  Marie sobbed. “What are you talking about, David? That’s her. That’s our Kelsey.”

  “Look at her nose, Marie.” David thrust out a shaky finger at his daughter’s face. “Where’s the diamond in her nose?”

  Jake’s heart bumped in his chest, and his eyes met Kyra’s across the body. “Kelsey had a piercing in her nose?”

  “They took it out, right? The coroner took it out.” Marie grasped her purse strap with both hands.

  Jake nodded at Sean, whose red face matched the color of his hair. “We did remove her jewelry and we have that for you, but we didn’t remove any diamond from her nose. I didn’t even know there was a piercing there. I mean, later...”

  Sean trailed off because he meant later, when they did the autopsy, that would be something they would note.

  “We didn’t notice it at the crime scene, either, Mr. Lindquist. Could she have not worn it that day?”

  “She just got it. She wouldn’t take it out so soon. She wore it all the time, right, Marie?”

  “She did.” Marie’s bottom lip quivered. “But that’s Kelsey, David, with or without the nose piercing.”

  Jake took two steps toward the door. “Thank you, Sean. Mr. and Mrs. Lindquist, are you ready?”

  David stumbled to the door. He’d been ready to leave the moment he’d walked in.

  Jake opened the door, and they filed out. The cool air of the hallway felt like a sauna after the morgue, and the stifling air smelled like a spring meadow in comparison to the room they’d just left.

  As they reached the elevator, Jake touched David’s back. “Are you all right, Mr. Lindquist?”

  “I’m okay. I never wanted to do this in the first place. We knew it was her, Marie.” David’s anger had given him life and color. As he straightened to his full height, he could almost meet Jake nose to nose. “We didn’t need to do this.”

  They piled into the elevator, and Marie sagged against Kyra. As one partner gained strength, the other seemed to lose it. There was only so much strength to go around, and they had to take turns with it.

  Jake replied, more comfortable with David’s anger than his grief. “I know that was hard, Mr. Lindquist, but we did get some valuable information. Kelsey was not found with a nose stud, so she may have lost it in the struggle with her killer or...”

  Kyra hit the elevator button with her fist. “Or he took it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jake watched through narrowed eyes as Kyra handed her card to Marie and stepped away from the Lindquists’ car with a wave. Jake lifted his own hand, his heart still sore at their grief.

  Kyra spun around on the toes of her low-heeled pumps like a ballerina and strode toward him like a boss, her blond ponytail bobbing behind her. She positioned herself in front of him, arms folded over her white blouse.

  “Are you going to order another search of the dump site for Kelsey’s nose stud?”

  “Of course, but as you noticed last night while you were tromping all over the area, the tape is gone and if the diamond was there it might be ground into the dirt by now. We’ll also comb her car for it. If there was a struggle outside or inside her car, it might turn up in the vehicle. She was most likely taken at her car, as her purse and phone were still there.”

  “And if he took it as a trophy?”

  Jake scratched his chin. “Definitely would be unusual for a serial killer to claim two trophies—the finger and the nose stud. Not unheard-of, I guess.”

  “What about Marissa? Was she missing any jewelry?” Kyra hunched her shoulders as if she’d gotten a sudden chill despite the dry heat blanketing them.

  Jake loosened his shirt collar. “Not that we know of. Have you talked to Marissa’s family, yet?”

  “As they’re out of state, I haven’t contacted them. I plan to meet with her friends, if they request it.”

  “We’ll check with her friends in LA about the jewelry.” A bead of sweat crept down Jake’s neck and found a path beneath his shirt, looped tight by his tie. How did Kyra manage to look so cool in her crisp blouse and light-colored skirt? She’d sloughed off the tan cardigan she’d donned for the AC in the building and the even colder air in the morgue. His own suit felt like a straitjacket, constricting and smothering him.

  Kyra’s gaze dipped to his chest, as if following the trickle of sweat making its way to his belly. “Santa Ana winds kicking up since yesterday. Hope that doesn’t mean the start of fire season.”

  He must look as miserably hot as he felt. “Hope not. Keep me posted on anything you find out from Marissa’s friends or Kelsey’s mom. You established quite a rapport with her in such a short period of time.”

  “You sound surprised.” She smoothed one hand across her already-smooth hair, making him feel more rumpled than ever. “That is my job.”

  What she had with Marie was more than a job to her. Why was she trying to brush it off? Jake cocked his head. “I suppose it is.”

  Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it from the side pocket of her purse, giving it a quick glance. “You, too?”

  He stopped struggling out of his jacket for a second. “Me, too, what?”

  She aimed her phone at him. “You keep me posted, too.”

  She sauntered off while Jake stared after her, yanking on the sleeve of his jacket. He opened his mouth and snapped it shut.

  He couldn’t very well yell at that swinging ponytail that they had different jobs and he didn’t have to inform her of anything if he didn’t want to, which wasn’t quite true as long as she was on the task force.

  He finally struggled out of his jacket and stalked to his car. As long as Castillo said so, Kyra would stay on the task force.

  Jake would have to accept it, but he didn’t have to like it.

  An hour later, back at the station, Jake stopped by Billy’s desk, picked up the file on Marissa Perez and shuffled through it while Billy finished a phone call with the dry cleaner.

  When he hung up, he said, “Did you do the ID with the Lindquists at the morgue?”

  “They ID’d their daughter.” Jake wiped the back of his hand across his dry mouth. “They said Kelsey’s diamond nose stud is missing. That didn’t turn up anywhere, did it?”

  Billy sat back in his chair and wedged one expensive shoe on the desk. “No, are you thinking a second trophy? That wouldn’t jive with The Player’s MO.”

  “Maybe she lost it in the struggle to subdue her. Did Jenkins and Washington have any luck with cameras in the area where Kelsey’s car was found, catching a car coming and going?”

  “They’re going through some footage now.” Billy jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Do you want to send some people over to Griffith Park and do a search for the nose stud? How about the parking lot where her car was found?”

  “Let’s do both.” Jake waved the file still clutched in his hands in the air. “Nobody mentioned any missing jewelry for Marissa?”

  “Not yet.” Billy raised his eyebrows. “How’d it go with Kyra Chase, the victims’ rights advocate? I heard she met you at the morgue.”

  “She was there.” Jake’s mouth tightened. “Have to admit, she was good with the mom, Marie.”

  Billy whistled through his teeth. “That’s high praise from you, brother. Better watch out, she’ll want to shrink your
head.”

  “No chance.” Jake snorted and smacked Marissa’s file on Billy’s desk. “I’m going to look at some reports that have come in since yesterday, and then I’m calling Roger Quinn.”

  “Going old-school for this one, huh?”

  “He does know more about The Player than any other detective, including the FBI guys.”

  “Speaking of which, the fibbies are looking at our case.” Billy swirled the leftover coffee in his cup from a new coffee house down the street. Station blend wasn’t fine enough for his palate.

  “Let ’em. They play ball with us, we’ll play ball with them.” Jake rapped on Billy’s desk. “Let’s nail this guy and save the FBI the trouble.”

  After skimming through the reports on Kelsey’s car and surrounding area, Jake placed a call to Kelsey’s boyfriend to set up an interview. The guy had an ironclad alibi for the time of Kelsey’s abduction and murder, but he’d be able to shed some light on Kelsey’s habits, schedules, exes—not that Jake believed this was personal, unless Marissa had the same acquaintances.

  Then he pulled an index card from the top drawer of his desk and flicked the corner of it. Castillo had given him Roger Quinn’s phone number. Although the retired detective had become even more reclusive than he’d been before the death of his wife a few years ago, if he’d been following the news, he would be expecting Jake’s call.

  He punched in the number and waited through two rings before voice mail picked up, an impersonal automated message intoning in his ear. At the beep, Jake said, “Detective Quinn, this is Detective Jake McAllister, LAPD Homicide. I’m leading a task force—”

  A gruff voice interrupted him on what must’ve been an answering machine connected to a landline. “I know who you are. You can come by at four o’clock today.”

  Without waiting for Jake’s reply, Quinn rattled off his address in Venice and hung up.

  His mouth hanging open, Jake eyed the telephone receiver until the buzz signaled that the old detective had really just hung up on him. The rumors about Quinn were no exaggeration. Jake would have to bring his A game.