“How do you know?” Kencil pressed. Lauren spun around, pushing Reese to turn and go back up the stairs to the kitchen.
“I want to see Lewis,” she said, prodding Reese forward in front of her. Kencil called after her, but she ignored him.
Reese looked back at her. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Where is Lincoln Lewis?” Lauren demanded of the frazzled young cop still stationed at the door.
“Uhhh—” The poor officer looked from Lauren to Reese and back again.
“That’s not an answer. Use your words,” Lauren snapped.
“I think he’s in Caffrey’s Tahoe, right there.” She pointed to an SUV idling by the curb in front of the house.
Before Reese could apologize to the female cop for her, Lauren plunged down the steps and over to the Tahoe. She kicked the plastic booties off, sending one into a neighbor’s front yard.
Lauren peeled off her latex gloves, dropping them into the snow. Without bothering to look, she stepped off the curb into the street. Reese paused in his pursuit of her just long enough to properly take off the crime scene gear on the front walkway. She didn’t wait for Reese to catch up. The patrol cop sitting in the driver’s seat didn’t see Lauren until she threw open the back-passenger door. “Lincoln—”
“You.” The venom in his voice pierced the air. “Officer, I want you to put the cuffs on this woman right now for the murder of Richard Schultz.” He tried to pull the door closed, but Lauren threw her hip against it, causing a wave of pain to travel through her entire body.
“You think I did this?” she asked in disbelief.
“Let me guess, your partner back there is your alibi for last night. And the department just had to bring you to the scene, contaminating it. You want to talk about cover-ups?” His usually kind eyes were blazing with an anger she’d never seen in him before. “Let me tell you the one about the totally obsessed cop who wanted the guy she couldn’t arrest so badly she killed him, and the Buffalo Police Department covered it up for her. Because she’s pretty and blond and breaks big cases. How’s that for a cover-up for you?”
Reese hauled her back from the door, allowing Lewis to shut himself in the patrol vehicle. “Don’t put on a show,” he hissed as he pulled her toward Wayne Kencil’s car.
“It was David Spencer.” Her breath was coming out in huffs; fogging the air in front of her. “He killed Ricky and Joe Wheeler. That message on the computer was for me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I said those exact words to him when I went to his house. He sent me flowers in the hospital, Reese. I should have told you—”
“Okay,” he said through clenched teeth. “But this isn’t our investigation. You have to take yourself out of this. Lincoln Lewis thinks you could be the killer. You really think he’s going to keep that to himself? And Kevin King isn’t going to talk about what he discussed with Ricky today. King would be more than happy to point the finger at you, if it takes the heat off of him.”
If Lauren even remotely thought Kevin King had the balls to kill Ricky Schultz, she might have taken a step back and given him a silent thought of thanks for taking out her garbage and then walked away. There was no redeeming a dirty cop. No sympathy for someone who crossed that thin blue line, no matter the reason. His death could remain unsolved, she wouldn’t have lost a wink of sleep over it, and neither would have any of the other coppers on the department.
But David Spencer coming out of the woodwork to kill her suspect? That meant David had crossed over into something far more dangerous than what he already had been. It was what she’d been afraid of since his acquittal last year.
“This case is over. Sam is in jail for murdering Gabriel Mohamed. Vince is in jail for attacking you, and Ricky is dead. The Kinger is out of the DA’s office. Case closed for us. Now tell me,” Reese said, opening the back door of Kencil’s vehicle so she could get in. “No, promise me you’ll let this go.”
Reese hung in the doorway, one arm draped over the door, the other over the frame, boxing her in the back seat. His handsome face was pinched, lip curled into a sneer because the cameras had followed their trek and were now trained on him standing outside the car. But his eyes betrayed the concern and anxiety that was crashing over him. He knew what that message for Lauren meant, maybe better than she did.
Lauren did what she did best when the men in her life wanted something permanent from her, like a promise: she lied.
“Okay, okay. I promise. Case closed.” She let her body slump against the seat. “I’ll stay home and go to physical therapy and let everyone else worry about this. I’ll let Joy and Ben and Garcia do their jobs. Because I have no real choice here, do I?”
His green eyes studied her face. Knowing that was the best he was going to get out of her, he slammed the door and began to walk around to the other side.
She’d try to spare Reese as much as she could. She turned away from him when he got in, looking out of the tinted window at the house. Lauren’s forehead fell against the cold glass, her shoulders tense and rigid.
I’m sorry, Reese. But David Spencer isn’t going to stop. Not now. Not when he knows he has my attention.
A gust of wind threw a splotch of snow across her window, but she didn’t so much as blink. Outside the car, officers still milled about, media people still jockeyed for the best camera angle, neighbors still clustered on porches, huddling together against the bluster. Nothing had changed since she had entered Ricky’s Schultz’s apartment, yet everything had changed. Her final thought as she surveyed the scene in front of her was as inevitable and as certain as the snowstorm about to come hard at the city off Lake Erie.
Not until one of us is dead.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank everyone in my critique group at the Dog Ear’s Bookstore in South Buffalo. Your critiques, criticisms, and encouragement have made me a better writer.
A huge thank you to my friends who helped me smooth out my manuscript: Rick Ollerman, Ruth Robbins, Stephanie Patterson, and Michael Breen.
Thank you to my friends and family who have supported me through thick and thin during this journey: Lorri and Lenny Cain, Missy Warnes, Nell Kavanaugh, Maura Krause, Sharon Kysor, Karen Adymy, Tom McDonnell, and Brian Ross.
I am so grateful to live where I do. The Buffalo community has been so incredibly supportive of me and my writing. I truly live in the City of Good Neighbors.
Thank you to my Sisters in Crime: Kathy Kaminski, Barbara Early, and Alice Loweecey for all the advice, support, and laughs.
Thank you, Richard Walter, for all of your help, not just with this book but over the years. You are a brilliant mentor and friend.
To everyone at Midnight Ink, especially Nicole Nugent and Terri Bischoff—many thanks.
Thanks to my agent, Bob Mecoy, and Dana Kaye at Kaye Publicity for everything they do.
To my husband, Dan, for sticking by me and encouraging me. I love you and appreciate you every day.
Natalie and Mary, the sky’s the limit for both of you—chase all your dreams!
About the Author
Lissa Marie Redmond is a recently retired Cold Case Homicide detective with the Buffalo Police Department. She lives and writes in Buffalo, New York, with her husband and two kids. The Murder Book is the second novel in her Cold Case Investigation series.
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