Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
She sips her coffee, musing. “My point is, it’s hard to know so early. You said it yourself; you can’t be sure it’s a serial yet, so you need more information. More evidence.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave a hand. “More dead bodies. Jay’s already given me that speech. Doesn’t sound any better coming from you.”
“Sorry, not sorry. What else have you found?”
“Not much. Dug into the latest victim’s past. Other than a clear alcohol problem, no link yet. But I know there’s a link. There has to be.”
Amelia’s gaze feels a little heavy. She’s studying me and ending up on this side of the scrutiny is weird. “You don’t have to be the one who finds the link, Frankie. As long as it’s found. Right?” She takes another bite.
“Save the shrinking for the perps, Ames. Not me.” I did my time at the shrink after Dad’s death and then Mom’s suicide. Mandatory department sessions don’t count.
She tosses her red hair back, laughing in a way that fills her office, which looks nothing like a police precinct with its flowers, plants, diplomas, and photos. She’s done her best to make this grungy corner her own.
“You’re as interesting, if not more, than the perps you make me study. Your need for justice combined with your trauma is a case study on its own. The only reason it’s not one is because you’re a cop, not a serial killer.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Can we get back to the dick-decimating serial killer, please?”
Amelia’s lips twitch. “Possible serial killer,” she corrects with a gleam in her eyes. “And yes, but it doesn’t sound like you have much to share.”
“True,” I admit. “But I was hoping you had some insight.” I share my thoughts on the sexual assault angle.
“Possible, but you’d find some allegations in their past, right?”
“Nothing yet, I’m still digging.”
“Keep at it. My door’s always open. For digging into killers’ minds or dinner and drinks. Like friends.”
“How about tonight?” I could use a few hours of downtime.
“Perfect. Seven work?”
“I’ll be here digging unless another body shows up.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t.” She raises an eyebrow. “Do I have to wait until tonight to hear about you and Nate? I heard you gave him shit at the last crime scene.”
I shrug. “Nothing is going on. We’re over. I yelled at him because he took his sweet ass time getting to a rained-out crime scene.”
The whole damn department, it seems, is invested in my relationship with Nate, which is hilarious since none of them bothered to tell me he was fucking every woman who batted her lashes in his direction.
I shove thoughts of Nate and our failed relationship away and spend the day digging deeper into the victims’ lives.
So far, I’ve only learned that Kowalski, Donovan and Beaumont are all from Los Angeles or the surrounding area. They’re locals, which means whoever they pissed off is likely to be a local too. I look into their early lives, trying to find a connection.
“I guess dinner has to wait?”
Amelia’s voice startles me. “Is it seven o’clock already?” I ask. “How time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Funny,” she says dryly.
I roll my eyes and finish my notes before closing my notebook and turn back to Amelia.
“Dinner won’t wait. I’m too damn hungry.” I stand and grab my bag. “How about Steak & Bake for dinner?”
“Steak and an enormous glass of red wine.”
“And a tall, ice-cold beer.” I look at her, daring her to scrunch her nose at my beer order. “Come on. Beat you there,” I say.
We walk out together to our cars. We drive separately, so she won’t have to bring me back here. Plus, the drive to the restaurant gives me time to think about the cases. Nothing makes sense—yet—but I know it will. Later means more bodies, and that’s not good.
The steakhouse is packed, but we snag a table and order drinks immediately. “Have you found anything yet?” Amelia’s smile is beaming as she rests her chin in her hand, eyes sparkling with interest.
“I thought you wanted to talk about something other than the case?”
“Of course I do. You and Nate are over. Are you seeing anyone else, yet?”
“Nope.” I shake my head and grab my beer greedily, and take a big, unladylike gulp. “No energy for men or dating. Except for the occasional orgasm. And I can do that by myself.”
Amelia laughs. “Not pining after Nate?”
“Oh, hell no. He reminded me that I simply don’t have time for a relationship, even with someone who works crazy hours. Men require too much attention, and my attention is always directed elsewhere.”
She nods. “On victims and their killers?”
“Right.” I smile as the server returns to take our orders. Steak and potatoes for me, a grilled shrimp salad for Amelia. “Justice for victims is a much worthier cause than a man-baby.”