Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 8

Rachel hoisted half her body over the counter to eye the receipt Jake held in his hand.

  When she slid back to her side of the counter, she pressed her hand against her heart. “Oh, my God. That’s Kelsey Lindquist, one of the copycat’s victims. You mean to tell me a killer has my phone?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I need a favor.” Kyra dangled the plastic bag containing the queen of hearts in front of Clive Stewart, the fingerprint technician.

  His gaze followed the swinging bag back and forth, and his mouth hung open. “Where did you get that? I already got the queen of spades from the body last night, and I know the queen of diamonds and the queen of hearts from the other two murders are sealed away.”

  “That’s why it’s a favor, Clive. It’s off-the-books. Can you just dust it for prints and let me know if there are any? If there are, I’ll go through the chain of evidence and submit it. I don’t want to raise any alarms right now over a simple playing card, especially if it has no prints on it.”

  He held out his hand and she placed it on his palm, which had surprisingly few lines for a man his age. Clive’s hands looked soft, but he was a scholar not a fighter.

  Crooking his finger, he said, “Follow me. I can dust it right now while you wait.”

  “Thank you so much. I owe you one.” She followed his stiff back into the lab and clicked the door shut behind them.

  A lot of the forensics for LAPD was done at the county, but most of the larger divisions had their own fingerprint techs and other forensic specialists. The lab at the remodeled Northeast Division boasted a blood spatter and ballistics expert, so they didn’t have to send out to county for that work.

  Clive opened the bag and tipped the card onto a clean piece of paper, faceup. He dipped his brush into a container of black dust, like graphite, and shook off the excess. “You know, playing cards originally came from China, but the suits—the club, spade, diamond and heart—developed from Italian shapes, modified by the Germans and finally simplified by the French.”

  Kyra compressed her lips, flattening out her smile. Clive’s brain contained a wealth of information, most of it trivial. She murmured, “That’s fascinating.”

  “Don’t pretend an interest you don’t share, Kyra.” He shook out the black particles from the brush onto the playing card. “My wife does the same thing, and I can spot disinterest a mile away. I’m used to it.”

  “I’m sorry. Distracted.”

  “That’s all right.” Clive lodged his tongue in the corner of his mouth for the delicate work before him. He’d been at this for as long as she’d been working with the department and probably a lot longer.

  He used a pair of tweezers to lift the card and hold it under a light. “Nothing on this side, not even your prints.”

  “I lifted it off the ground with a pair of tongs from the kitchen and slipped it into that plastic bag. I’ve been around the block a few times.”

  “Yes, you have.” He flipped the card over so that the queen was no longer staring at her. “You’re a therapist. What made you work with the police department?”

  She watched as Clive repeated the process with the black powder on the flip side of the playing card. “I—I had a friend who was murdered in college. Her death affected us, affected me, so much I changed my major from pre-nursing to psychology. I did an internship with a therapist who worked with police officers, and my career just kind of took off from there.”

  “Very impressive.” He eyed the card under a magnifying glass and sighed. “I’m afraid there are no prints on this card.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. I’m sure this was just a coincidence. I mean there are lots of decks of cards floating around, aren’t there?” She picked up the plastic bag and blew a puff of air into it to open it. “You can drop it back in here. I really appreciate your help, Clive. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

  “I can’t imagine anything, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Lunch, coffee.” She drilled her finger into her chest. “I’m your girl.”

  He slid the card, blackened with fingerprint dust, back into the baggie. “I just ask that you don’t spread it around that I’m available to do work under the radar...because I’m usually not.”

  “I won’t.” She traced her fingertip across the seam of her lips. “My lips are sealed.”

  They exited the lab together, and Clive pulled the door tight until he heard the lock click. He nodded in her direction. “See you later.”

  Clive took off down the hallway, his narrow shoulders set, his head tilted slightly to one side, the light above gleaming off his bald pate.

  Clive’s ready acquiescence to dust the card for prints surprised her, but he was nearing retirement and seemed a little less buttoned-up than usual.

  She careened around the corner and nearly crashed into a solid mass of...man. “Oh, sorry.”

  Jake placed a hand on her waist to steady her and then dropped it as his eyebrows lowered. “Slow down. It’s not like you’re running out to a call or something.”

  Kyra folded her arms and stuffed the baggie into her purse. “Heard you got a trace on the phone.”

  “Heard you left with a reporter last night.” He propped one broad shoulder against the wall, blocking her escape. Escape? Did she really want to escape Jake’s presence? Not once she’d secured the queen of hearts in her purse.

  “That’s true. Megan Wright. She’s my friend. I know you don’t have any of those, but they’re people you like and associate with and even do things for. You might try one sometime.” She shook her finger at him. “I hear they even reduce stress.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Believe it or not, I actually have a few of those.”

  “Coworkers and criminals don’t count.”

  He let out a gurgle, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “We got some good leads this morning. I wish... Where were you today?”

  Had he been about to say he wished she’d been there? Progress. “Leads from the phone call?”

  “Yeah, we have security videos to review in about an hour. The stores are sending them over.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I think I owe you a lunch. I can fill you in.”

  “You mean the lunch you promised to drop on my desk in a brown paper bag at the office?”

  “Did I mention a brown paper bag?” He pushed off the wall and jingled his car keys. “I mean a real lunch in a real restaurant, away from the station.”

  “Let’s do it. You’re going to have to get back here to watch that footage before you prep for the task force meeting. Four o’clock, right?” She took a step past him, and he swung in next to her.

  “A lot of updates today but no ID on the victim from last night.” He pushed open the door for her and held it as she walked through.

  The man had his odd moments of chivalry. He even opened the door of his Crown Vic for her. He slammed it and circled around to the driver’s side. As he got behind the wheel, he asked, “Any preferences?”

  “Just no cop hangouts, even if they do give you the discount.”

  “The last place I want to go with you is a cop hangout.” He cranked on the engine and the AC blasted her face.

  She nudged the vent in his direction. “You don’t want other cops to see you talking to me?”

  “Would just prefer an opportunity to talk without getting interrupted every few minutes.” He dialed down the air conditioning as he pulled out of the station’s parking lot. “Looks like they’ve got that Malibu fire under control, although it did overtake the body dump site.”

  “So, the killer’s fears were realized, after all. He must be resting easy now that he gets credit for his third victim.” She clenched her jaw.

  “First victim.”

  “What?” She jerked her head toward Jake. “What makes you think the woman last night was his first?
”

  “He made the rookie error of hiding her body too well so that she couldn’t be found, or at least not found for several weeks or months. Also, the, um, decomposition of the body. I won’t go into that before lunch.”

  “You don’t have to. I get it.” Her stomach still gurgled, and she didn’t think it was from hunger.

  Jake drove just a few blocks from the station and pulled into a strip mall. “There’s a good Vietnamese pho place here, and if that doesn’t interest you, there’s pizza and a taco place.”

  “Pho sounds good. Not too hot for you on a warm day?”

  “As long as the AC’s on, I can handle it.” He swung his car into a spot in front of a dry cleaner, and Kyra hopped out. When Jake opened the door of the restaurant, a rush of spicy smells made her mouth water.

  “Hope you weren’t expecting something fancy. You order at the counter and they’ll bring your food to your table.”

  “That’s most restaurants I go to.” She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and grabbed a laminated menu to study while they waited for the man in front of them asking a million questions.

  After they both ordered, Jake placed their number on a table by the window while she filled up a paper cup with diet soda. Her blood fizzed as much as the soda. She couldn’t wait to hear how the case was progressing, and she was getting a preview ahead of the rest of the task force—all for the price of some fish and chips last night, and Quinn vouching for her. All LAPD detectives revered the legendary Roger Quinn. Jake had proved to be no different, and her association with Quinn had given her status in Jake’s eyes.

  He returned with his own drink from the self-serve fountain machine and pulled out the plastic chair across from her. His large frame dwarfed the chair and the table.

  He’d rolled up the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt, and the tail end of some ink crept onto his forearm. It looked like a snake or a tail and she wouldn’t mind getting a look at the rest of it, but she averted her gaze to the tip of her straw and sucked down some soda.

  “I heard the phone he called from wasn’t a burner.”

  “You get right to the point.” He folded his hands on the table; instead of being a prissy gesture as it would be for most men, it only emphasized his strength and masculinity as the veins popped over his corded forearms. “Info has a way of leaking, doesn’t it?”

  “But you never know if it’s true or purely speculation and rumor.”

  “That particular piece of data is true.” As the waitress approached the table to deliver their bowls of steaming pho, Jake moved their cups and silverware to make room.

  The server placed the bowls in front of them and put down a silver tray containing little dishes of jalapeño, cilantro, bean sprouts and other ingredients to spice up the soup.

  “After you.” Jake nudged the tray toward her, and the little dishes trembled.

  Using her fork, she added a few more ingredients to her pho, the steam from the bowl already making her sniff. “You haven’t led me astray here, have you? I’m not going to take one spoonful of this pho and run screaming for the exit with steam coming from my ears, am I?”

  He raised his eyebrows as he dropped a jalapeño into his soup. “For some reason, I thought you were a native Angeleno. Am I wrong? If not and you’re like me, you were weaned on spicy food.”

  She did not want this conversation turning personal. She stirred her soup and slurped a sip from the large spoon. “Perfect.”

  “Glad you like it. You can always add more chili oil, if you like,” he said, which he then proceeded to do.

  “If the phone wasn’t a burner, whose was it? If it belonged to the copycat, you’d have him in custody by now.”

  Jake patted his nose with his napkin. “It belongs to Rachel Blackburn, a young community college student who works in a clothing and jewelry shop on Melrose. She lost the phone yesterday—or it was stolen from her.”

  “Hence the security cam footage for review. You’re going to try to spot the moment someone picked up her phone.”

  “Exactly. She lost it somewhere on Melrose. She had it when she went into work, and didn’t have it when she left work. She’d been to a few businesses along Melrose. We’ve pulled the video from those places.”

  “That’s a huge lead.”

  “It gets better.” Jake swirled his soda and took a sip, keeping her in suspense. “The shop also does piercings, and guess who got her nose pierced there a few weeks ago?”

  Her own drink almost bubbled through her nose as she choked. “Kelsey?”

  “That’s right.”

  “One of the victims had her nose pierced at a shop on Melrose a few weeks before her murder, and the killer takes a phone from someone who works at the shop to call in another of his victims. He must live in, work in or frequent that area.”

  “Yeah, too bad it’s so congested, but it’s a start.”

  “It’s a great start. You got lucky with that girl, Rachel Blackburn.”

  “She’s a bright kid, interested in law enforcement. I told her to give me a call about a job with Dispatch. I know the sergeant and can put a word in for her.”

  Kyra dropped her spoon and stared at Jake, openmouthed.

  He jerked his head up and a bean sprout stuck to his chin. “What?”

  “First of all—” Kyra tapped her own chin “—you have food on your face. Secondly, I didn’t realize you were such a helpful person.”

  “Thanks.” He swiped the bean sprout from his chin with a napkin. “I hate it when you have food on your face or in your teeth and nobody tells you. They just sit back and watch you make a fool of yourself.”

  She buried her chin in her palm. “That’s nice of you to help out Rachel.”

  “Nice?” The color spiked in his cheeks, although that might be the jalapeño. “Nice had nothing to do with it. We need good people.”

  Jake didn’t want to ruin his rep as a tough guy. She tilted her bowl to spoon up the rest of her pho. “Hopefully, that CCTV footage will reveal the phone thief...and the killer.”

  “I was thinking you might talk to Rachel. She’s freaked out about being close to the copycat and the fact that he used her phone.” He jabbed his spoon in her direction. “You do that sort of thing, too, right?”

  “That sort of thing? Yes, I do. I’d be happy to talk to Rachel.”

  “All right then.” He checked his cell phone, which had been on the table throughout lunch and buzzing periodically with text messages. “I’m going to get more soda for the road.” He tapped his phone. “Just got a text from Billy that the video is queued up and ready for our viewing pleasure.”

  As she watched him walk to the soda machine, his gait sure and fluid like an athlete’s, she felt a twist of disappointment in her belly. She would’ve liked to have learned a little more about Jake’s personal life, his background. He was a Southern California boy, but where did he grow up? What had brought him to police work?

  She wanted to learn those things about him, but he was too skilled a detective to allow the flow of information to go one way. And she had no intention of giving him the details of her background.

  The secrecy made it hard to date, even harder to date someone in law enforcement. Of course, she was getting ahead of herself here. Nobody claimed, least of all Jake McAllister, that he was interested in dating her. She considered herself lucky he still didn’t have daggers in his eyes when he looked at her.

  He placed his cup on the edge of the table. “Do you want me to get you more soda before we leave?”

  “Sure.” She handed him her cup, and the tips of their fingers met on the damp surface.

  Jake snatched the cup away and stalked toward the machine without even asking her what she was drinking.

  She called after his back. “Diet, please.”

  He held up the cup and as he refilled her dr
ink, she slipped her purse from the back of the chair and swung it to hitch over her shoulder.

  As she did, it hit the chair, and some of the contents spilled out, including the plastic baggie with the card.

  “Sorry.” He began to crouch to collect her items.

  “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” But she didn’t have it. Jake had it.

  He rose from his crouch, straightening to his full, intimidating height, the bag dangling from his fingertips, the flesh around his mouth white.

  Through barely moving lips, he asked, “What the hell is this?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Kyra’s blue eyes met his, cool and unflinching chips of ice. “It’s a card.”

  Anger whipped through his body, his veins sizzling with it. He exhaled a long breath through his mouth, which beat banging on the table with his fist. “Thanks, I know what it is. You know damned well I’m asking you where it came from and why it was fingerprinted.”

  “It’s a long story, and you need to get back to the station.” She tugged on the bag in his hand. “Do I still get a ride back?”

  He should just leave her here. She had her phone. She could call up a car.

  “I’ll give you a ride.” But if she thought she was going to retain possession of this card, she’d better think again.

  He yanked the baggie from her fingers and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he grabbed his soda, with such a firm grip he almost popped off the lid, and pivoted on his heel.

  He could hear the click of her heels following him out of the restaurant as she called out cheerily to the staff behind the counter. “Thank you. Have a great day.”

  It was as if the hotter his rage burned, the colder she got in response. Did he expect tears? Did he want tears? The tears and recriminations from Tess had made him feel wanted. It was when his ex’s feelings turned to disinterest—and another man—that he knew their marriage was over.

  He stalked to the car, and habit compelled him to open the car door for her.

  Halfway into the car, she cranked her head to the side. “I’ll explain it to you. It’s silly, simple.”