Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Read online

  She sucked in a quick breath. “No.”

  “Doesn’t mean much. We verified his alibi, and when we questioned him, he said he chewed gum and had probably spit some out around Andrea’s house a few days before her murder.”

  “So, the killer picked up Jeremy’s gum to literally gum up the lock.” She raised a hand to her throat. “Do you think the killer knew it was Jeremy’s gum?”

  “Too much of a coincidence if he didn’t. He could’ve used putty or anything else. He used gum with Jeremy’s DNA.”

  “That means Andrea’s fears of a stalker were probably right on. This guy’s been watching her—and Jeremy. Maybe Andrea brushed it off, thinking it was Jeremy and she didn’t have to worry.”

  Jake’s lips twisted. “She was wrong.”

  “Did her friends or family say anything about her concerns?”

  “We’re not done interviewing her friends.” He grabbed a cup of coffee and drained it. “Have you been in touch with the family yet? Are they coming out from Atlanta?”

  “I have their contact info, but I haven’t spoken to them. I sent them an email detailing my services, so I’m going to leave the ball in their court for now.” She rose from Billy’s chair, cognizant of a few looks being thrown their way.

  It wasn’t like she and Jake were dating or anything. That dinner at Quinn’s house after the Copycat Player case ended didn’t count. Hell, they hadn’t even shared their first kiss...yet.

  Jake formed his fingers into a gun and pointed it at her. “Let me know what you want to do with Matt’s Harley.”

  “You seem extremely interested in that bike. You want it?”

  “That seems...wrong, but I’ll think about it.”

  She lifted and dropped her shoulders, and spun around to march back to her own desk in the corner. Maybe the Miles family had responded to her email. Or maybe they were too devastated to function.

  She pulled up her chair to the desk and clicked on the email icon at the bottom of her screen. Nothing from the Miles family. She scanned through a couple of messages and clicked on one with an attachment from an unknown sender.

  She squinted at the attachment, which appeared as a thumbnail, and her pulse ratcheted up several notches. It was a photo with a familiar configuration.

  Her hand shook as she moved the mouse over the attachment. Holding her breath, she clicked on it. The photo she’d just burned in the street now filled her computer screen—with one difference.

  Someone had placed a large black X over the face of Buck Harmon.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  With her heart thundering in her chest and echoing in her ears, Kyra closed the attachment. She scanned the body of the email, which was blank, and the email address. The message had come from one of the free email providers with a display name of LAPREY.

  What did that mean? LA prey? Was she supposed to be prey? She felt like it. Twisting her head over her shoulder, she swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to turn into a howl.

  She caught Jake’s eye and gave him a weak smile. She couldn’t blame this prank on Matt. Had her foster brother been telling Jake the truth when he said that someone had paid him to taunt her with those cards? If so, was someone else being paid to send her threatening emails?

  Was it a threat? Blackmail? If it was blackmail, she didn’t know what anyone would want from her. She didn’t have any money. No influence. No power.

  She dropped her chin to her chest. In fact, she hadn’t felt this powerless in a long time.

  A touch on her shoulder had her jumping out of her seat.

  “Whoa.” Jake stepped back. “Sorry I startled you. Are you all right?”

  And just like he’d done before with his laptop, she snapped her lid shut. “I’m fine. You scared me.”

  His brows furrowed over his nose. “I meant a few minutes ago when you looked at me across the room. I thought you were sending me an SOS signal.”

  “Really?” She snorted. “I think you’re just over here checking on that Harley. What do you think I could get for it?”

  “Probably twenty grand.” He balanced one hip on the corner of her desk. “That’s not why I crossed the room.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder. Had she really been sending out an SOS? “I’m okay, just stressed like everyone else in this room.”

  “Do you want to meet me at Quinn’s tonight? I’d like to update him on this murder, get his thoughts. I can pick up dinner or even cook for everyone.”

  Did he feel safe with her only in the presence of Quinn? What did he think would happen if they were alone together? She could think of several things she’d like to do with him in private.

  She coughed. “Cook? Quinn wouldn’t expect that, and neither would I. You can order in—just no Chinese. Too much sodium for him.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “Ah.” She raised one finger. “I’m the lucky one.”

  “Is that a yes, then? You, me, Quinn, dinner at his place at seven thirty. You can set that up?” With his last syllable, he kept his lips pressed together as if holding his breath.

  That sounded...romantic. She pasted on a bright smile. “I’ll give him a call. I haven’t spoken to him since we left his place the other night when you got the news about Andrea.”

  “Great.” He rapped his knuckles on her desk. “I’ll see you at seven thirty...at Quinn’s.”

  He had added that last part hastily when his partner walked by, bumping Jake’s shoulder.

  The two of them, heads together, walked to their desks, and Kyra returned to her computer and the problem in front of her.

  She eased up the lid on her laptop and opened the message. She clicked on the email address and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she studied the properties, which told her nothing. She needed to pick the brain of a computer geek to find out who’d sent this message.

  Her gaze darted around the room, bustling with phone calls, mini conferences and conversations around the whiteboards, and settled on Brandon Nguyen, the LAPD’s tech guy. Just like she’d done with Clive Stewart, the fingerprint tech, she might be able to get Brandon to do a little favor for her—off the radar.

  As she watched Brandon, he dropped to the floor, to check some cables, no doubt. She kept her eye on him until he popped up again, brushing the knees of his jeans. He waved a cable in the air and left the war room.

  Hastily Kyra jumped from her chair and followed him into the hallway, where she saw Brandon veer into the lunchroom. Perfect.

  She walked in on him studying the snack machine. Holding up a dollar bill, she said, “It’s on me if I can ask you a question about something.”

  “Not necessary.” He threaded his own money into the machine and punched a couple of buttons. “You can ask me anything, free of charge. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “It’s not something related to the case, though, and it is something I’d prefer to keep hush-hush.” She sidled up next to him in front of the snack machine and fed her bill into the slot.

  Brandon glanced over his shoulder as if she’d just asked him to spill government secrets. He might be a harder nut to crack than Clive had been with the fingerprints. “Um, I guess I can help out, as long as it’s not something illegal, you know, like accessing classified information.”

  She giggled as she selected a granola bar from the rows of junk food. “Of course not. I got an email from an unknown email address, and I’d like to find out where it came from. It’s regarding a patient of mine.”

  That was not a lie. She was her own patient—had been under her own care for years.

  His face cleared, and he skimmed a hand through his black hair. “I can help with that. I have some other work to do right now, though.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean right this minute. Hit me up when you’re free. I should be in the war
room for most of the afternoon.” She retrieved her granola bar from the tray and pointed it at him. “Thanks a bunch.”

  Two things being in foster care had taught her was how to be adaptable and agreeable. She could be anyone’s best friend in the blink of an eye.

  She took her seat in the conference room once again, keeping one eye on the clock and one eye on Jake. She didn’t want him to see Brandon working with her because he’d ask questions, and she didn’t want to lie to him any more than she had to.

  She did place a call to Quinn, who was only too happy to have company tonight, especially if it involved a lowdown on the new case. Quinn might be retired, but he still took a keen interest in all things LAPD Homicide.

  Finally Jake and Billy grabbed their jackets in unison and made for the door. Jake made a detour at her desk. “Everything set with Quinn?”

  “It is.” She wagged her finger between him and Billy, who was waiting at the door. “Where are you two off to?”

  “If Andrea had a stalker, and it looks like she did, we’re going to check for more cameras in that area. Maybe one of the neighbors caught the guy lurking around earlier.”

  “I hope so. Good luck.” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “’Bye, Billy.”

  Billy gave her a big grin. She held a special place in his affections after facilitating an introduction between him and her friend Megan Wright, a TV reporter for KTOP. As far as she knew, they were still dating but keeping it light. She wished she could say the same for her and Jake. Did having dinner at Quinn’s house talking serial killers count as a date?

  About thirty minutes after Jake and Billy left, Brandon approached her, eyebrows raised. “I have some time right now before I leave.”

  “Great.” She scooted her chair over while wheeling another in front of her computer. “Have a seat.”

  As Brandon adjusted the height of the chair, Kyra reached across him and brought up the email. Although he could probably tell the attachment was a picture from the thumbnail, he wouldn’t be able to make out the faces. Wouldn’t mean anything to him, anyway.

  “This is the message, and that’s the email—laprey at newmail dot com.”

  Brandon brushed some straight bangs from his eyes. “That name mean anything to you?”

  “Nope.” She wouldn’t give him her theory about being prey in LA. “Can you track the IP address, or whatever?”

  Brandon clicked around the screen with a speed she couldn’t hope to follow. “There are a few things I can do. Can I forward this to myself?”

  “Without the attachment. It’s confidential.”

  “Sure, sure.” He clicked the button to forward the message, and with his mouse he circled the prompt that asked if he wanted to include the attachment. He clicked No. “I need to perform a few functions on this message with programs you don’t have on your laptop.”

  “Understood. Thank you, so much. Coffee, lunch, those disgusting flaming hot things you like from the vending machine...” She jerked her thumb at her chest. “I’m your girl.”

  Brandon nodded as he walked the chair back to its rightful place. “I’ll remember that.”

  When he left, Kyra packed up her work and tossed the granola bar in her desk drawer. She’d get to the bottom of this one way or another.

  Matt had died of a drug overdose before he could tell Jake who’d paid him to leave the playing cards for her—before he could tell Jake any of her secrets. Who else besides Matt and Quinn knew those secrets? Matt could’ve told someone before he died, someone ready and willing to pick up where Matt left off. But why? She understood Matt’s motivation. He’d been obsessed with her and didn’t know whether to love her or hate her half the time. Why would some random person be interested in tormenting her about her past, and why would these events coincide with copycats taking up where The Player had left off?

  Maybe Matt told someone she had money. She shrugged her ponytail from her shoulder. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  “With what?”

  She glanced up, meeting Captain Castillo’s dark, intelligent eyes. She had to be careful around all these detectives.

  “Ugh, you caught me talking to myself.”

  “I hope that doesn’t mean you need therapy.” Castillo winked.

  “Any therapist will tell you we all need therapy.”

  “Just thought I’d drop by to see how you’re doing. Everything going okay with... Jake?” Castillo looked down as he ran a hand over his tie.

  Her pulse jumped and she schooled her face. “Why do you ask? Has he been complaining about me?”

  “Not at all. From the looks of things, he appreciates your work with the task force. I mean, you practically caught the Copycat Player single-handedly, didn’t you?”

  Her cheeks burned. “You mean by almost becoming one of his victims until Jake rescued me? I hope you don’t... I h-hope nobody thinks I believe I’m responsible for his apprehension. I hope Jake doesn’t think that.”

  “Never mentioned it to me. I was joking about the rest. Nobody thinks that.” Castillo clenched his hands in front of him, and she waited expectantly.

  What did he really want?

  “Anyway, everything’s going great. The team is as welcoming as ever...” She let her voice trail off and pushed back from her desk.

  “Do you still see Quinn?”

  “I was good friends with his wife. I see him often.” She cocked her head and waited. Did he have a message for Quinn?

  “Good to hear someone’s keeping track of him.” Castillo dabbed at a dried spot of coffee on his yellow shirtfront. “Sorry to keep you.”

  “No problem. Thanks for checking in. I appreciate your recommendation to the first task force.”

  He leveled a finger at her. “What you do adds value to an investigation. I firmly believe that.”

  “Thanks, Captain.”

  She waited until he had left the room, after chatting with a couple of the officers, and then released a long breath. That was weird. Had he heard something bad about her? Did he want to check on her ties with Quinn before lowering the hammer on her?

  If he did, she’d find out later. Right now she had one patient to see before meeting Jake at Quinn’s, and she didn’t want to leave those two alone together for too long.

  * * *

  JAKE HELD UP the bags of food on his way to Quinn’s kitchen. “Hope you like Mediterranean—chicken skewers, rice, hummus. Kyra told me to hold off on the Chinese because of the sodium.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Damn, that girl treats me like an invalid. You want a beer before she gets here and gives me the evil eye?”

  Jake swung the bags onto the counter. “As long as she’s not going to transfer that evil eye to me for encouraging you.”

  Quinn held on to the edge of the counter. “Hell, we’re two grown men, LAPD homicide detectives, stared down the baddest of the bad. We’re gonna let some slip of a blonde control us?”

  Jake stopped fussing with the bags and cocked one eyebrow. “Really?”

  “You’re right. Let’s have those drinks before she gets here.”

  Chuckling, Jake plunged into the fridge and emerged with two cold ones. He twisted off both lids and slid a bottle across to Quinn.

  Quinn raised his beer. “To that slip of a blonde.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Jake tapped the neck of his bottle with Quinn’s and took a long gulp. Not that he was trying to get Quinn drunk or anything before Kyra got here, but it might be interesting to talk to the old detective without her hovering, and a couple of beers could facilitate that conversation.

  As the two detectives faced each other across the counter, Jake told Quinn about Andrea’s murder.

  “The playing card was between the lips, and the pinkie finger was missing. We’re not sure if any other trophy was taken. Andrea was in bed sleeping wh
en he made his move, so presumably no jewelry. Her ex-boyfriend didn’t indicate she slept with jewelry on.”

  “He’s striking out on his own.” Quinn scraped the blue foil label from the damp bottle with his fingernail.

  “What do you mean?” Jake always felt like a novice sitting at the feet of a master when talking to Detective Roger Quinn—yet Quinn had not solved the case of The Player. Jake didn’t know how that would feel. He had a perfect record with every homicide he’d worked.

  Must be hell.

  “The Copycat Player followed The Player’s MO up to a point. The Player never took jewelry and the Copycat decided he would. Now, this guy is following The Player, and not the Copycat. He wants to be his own man in some regards.”

  “Then why follow him at all?”

  Quinn rolled a shoulder. “Notoriety? I don’t know. You’re the hotshot detective now. You figure it out.”

  “I plan to. Computer Forensics is still going through Cannon’s stuff to see where he got his ideas. They’re searching to find out if he was reading up on The Player’s case, but even if he was, he wouldn’t have learned about the missing fingers from any news stories. You guys kept a tight lid on that.”

  “And yet here we have another killer who knows about it. I guess the lid wasn’t that tight.” Quinn spread his hands on the counter, his fingers like misshapen twigs against the tile. “Or word got out. It does.”

  “This guy was stalking Andrea, murdered her in her home, just like a few of The Player’s killings.” Jake took a swig of beer. “Interesting how the first copycat, Cannon, chose to kill the victims in his car and dump their bodies, like The Player’s first few victims, and now this guy is killing in their homes, like The Player’s next few victims. These guys really know their serial killer lore, don’t they?”

  “Sick bastards.” Quinn shoved aside the glittering pile of foil he’d peeled from the bottle. “I’d better get rid of this evidence before Kyra gets here.”

  Jake drummed his fingers on the counter. “Kyra’s mother was murdered in her house, wasn’t she?”