* * *
Defino turned to face him when he came back into the viewing room. “She’s going to take her from us, isn’t she?”
Cho and Simons had left to finish processing Robert Harding, but Tag and Devan were still in the room, watching him. He didn’t want to discuss Peyton while they were present, but they didn’t seem inclined to leave.
He nodded and looked at the ground.
“Shit! I was afraid of that when she showed up. She’s always been interested in Peyton. What did she want you to do?”
“Convince her to apply.”
“Are you going to?”
“We talked about it already. Tag encouraged her after the meeting with Alvarez on Monday.”
“I did. It’s a good career move. She could do something more than homicide with the FBI.”
“She was supposed to meet with an academic counselor at San Francisco State today to see what it’d take for her to get her degree, but…” He pointed at the two way mirror.
Defino considered that for a moment, then she moved toward the door. “Well, I probably can find out just as easily as she can. People owe me a few favors down at State.” She started for the door, shaking her head. “Don’t know why I’m doing Alvarez’s job, but what the hell! Might as well cut off my nose to spite my face,” she grumbled, disappearing out the door.
Tag pushed herself off the table, patting Marco’s shoulder as she passed him. “Poor damn bastard,” she muttered.
Marco glanced through the window. Peyton was still sitting with Robert Harding as he wrote his account of Doris Hall’s death. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn’t want to wait in here with Devan. He’d just started to turn for the door when Devan cleared his throat.
“D’Angelo?”
Marco briefly closed his eyes. He and Devan weren’t exactly chummy in the best of circumstances. Marco had envisioned carving out his spleen a half dozen times when he and Peyton were dating.
“Yeah?”
“Jake told me about you and Peyton.”
“Great.” Freakin’ Ryder.
“Can I give you a bit of advice?”
Hell no, he wanted to say, but he shrugged instead.
“Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t try to stand in her way. If she wants this job, the best thing you can do is get behind her and do whatever it takes to keep her happy.”
“I’m not you, Adams.”
“What does that mean?”
Marco felt anger wash over him. This jackass had tossed her aside and then he’d been trying to weasel his way back in for months now. “It means I know when I’ve got something special, and I’m sure as shit not going to do anything that would mess it up, like play games with her.”
“I wasn’t playing games.”
“Really? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what it looked like. You threw her away, then you got engaged, then you wanted her back, while you were busy tossing away the woman you used to hurt her with in the first place. Class A prick move, Adams.”
“What the hell chance did I have? You certainly didn’t have a problem interfering in our lives. Whenever I turned around, there you were. Every time I got into bed with her, I felt like I was getting into bed with both of you. You were the reason we didn’t work. You were always there.”
Marco gave him a chilling smile. “I guess it worked out perfectly then.”
“Did it?” Devan took a step closer to him. “Do you know what I could have done for her? How I could have provided for her? She would have wanted for nothing. And I can tell you this, she wouldn’t have been grabbed off the street and shoved in a van. She wouldn’t have almost been raped and murdered by a serial killer!”
Marco started forward, but he caught motion from the corner of his eyes.
Peyton had stepped into the room.
“What’s going on?”
Devan straightened, smoothing the lines of his jacket. “Nothing.” He came toward her and ran a hand down her arm. “You were brilliant in there as always. Good job.”
She eyed him, then turned her attention to Marco.
“I’ll go see if I can get him a good defense attorney. Someone who’ll actually try to represent him.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
He gave Marco a last glare before he stepped out the door.
Peyton fixed her hands on her hips. “What was really going on?”
Marco shrugged, leaning against the table. “Just comparing penis sizes.”
“I see.” She walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Do men do that a lot?”
“More than you think.” He caught her hips and drew her closer. “He’s right about one thing. You were brilliant.” Lowering his head, he nuzzled her throat.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you remember when you promised me a chocolate feast?”
“I do, indeed,” he said, trailing his lips up her neck.
“I was thinking we’d have it in bed.”
He leaned back and gave her a sultry look. “You have a wicked mind, Inspector Brooks.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pushed her away, then grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
She laughed as he pulled her from the room.
CHAPTER 16
Peyton pulled the Mustang into the precinct parking lot behind Tag and her motorcycle. Climbing out of the car, she watched Tag remove her helmet, brush a hand through her short blond hair, and swing her leg over the back of the bike. She wore her ubiquitous brown leather pants with a brown leather bomber jacket. Peyton thought it made her look kind of badass, but Maria would probably have a stroke when she saw her.
“Hey, partner,” she said, locking the Mustang.
“Hey, Fluffy. Get some rest?”
“Yeah. Did you? I notice you took Defino up on coming in later today.”
“Yeah, after that nightmare yesterday, I needed some me time.”
Peyton nodded, coming around the car to walk beside her.
“You go talk to that counselor at SF State?”
“No, I missed the appointment yesterday. I called to apologize, but I don’t think it’s a good time to try pursuing that right now.”
“If not now, when?”
“When the Janitor’s caught?” She jogged up the stairs to keep up with Tag’s longer stride.
“You’re afraid,” said Tag, reaching for the door.
Peyton frowned at her. “I’m not afraid. I’m just not ready.”
“You gonna piss around here forever over a man?”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t want to apply for the FBI because of Lieutenant G.Q. You think he’s gonna hold back his career for you?”
“First of all, this isn’t about Marco, and second of all, he told me to apply. He said he’d move wherever they sent me.”
“Right.” Tag yanked open the door.
“Okay, fine. I’ll reschedule the appointment.”
Tag smiled back at her. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
Peyton shook her head and followed Tag through the door.
“You didn’t tell me you were going away on a romantic weekend!” said Maria, standing on the other side of the counter with her hands on her hips.
“What?” Why was everyone attacking her this morning?
“You’re going on a romantic weekend getaway with Marco and you didn’t tell your best friend?”
Tag leaned on the counter, giving Peyton a smug smile.
Best friend? Didn’t Peyton get a say in this? “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it.”
“You didn’t think about it? Oh my God, Brooks, this is big. This is a romantic weekend getaway. Don’t you know what that means?”
“Should I?”
“This relationship is moving to the next stage.” Maria held up her hand and started ticking things off. “First date, first kiss, spending the night, romantic weekend, moving in tog
ether.”
Peyton paused. “We’re already living together.”
“That’s because you always screw everything up, but still, the romantic weekend is big. What lingerie are you bringing?”
“What?”
Tag started to snicker.
“Lingerie? You know? Sexy teddies and stuff?”
“Uh…”
“Oh my God, Brooks!”
“Maria, relax. I put on a football jersey and he can’t keep his hands off me.”
“A football jersey?” said Maria, her eyes wide.
“I so don’t need to know about this before coffee,” grumbled Tag.
“A football jersey?”
“Yeah.”
Maria came around the counter and grabbed her arm, giving her a stern motherly look. “That’s because the sex is new. What happens when it’s not new anymore?”
Peyton leaned away from her, bewildered. “What?”
“What will you do when the sex isn’t new and exciting?”
“I’ll do lingerie?” she said hesitantly.
“Exactly.” Maria huffed and released her. “Don’t worry. You’ve got me as your best friend.”
“About that…” began Peyton, but Maria whirled away from her and went behind the counter.
“I’ve got this covered. We’re taking you tomorrow on our lunch break to get lingerie.” She motioned between her and Tag.
Tag blinked at her. “We’re?”
“You’re taking me to buy lingerie?”
“We’re?” said Tag, straightening away from the counter.
Maria paused on the other side and faced her. “Yes, we’re. Don’t worry, you’ll get something too.”
“What am I getting?” said Tag loudly.
“A decent bra.” She used both hands to motion at Peyton’s chest. “I don’t have much to work with here.”
Peyton looked down at her breasts. What was wrong with her breasts?
“But you...you’ve got a rack.” She lowered her hands. “Except if you don’t properly support them, you’ll be slinging them over your shoulders when you ride that motorcycle.”
Tag started forward, but Peyton stepped in front of her, blocking her.
Maria gave a roll of her eyes. “Let her go. I’ve got this. I’m taking self-defense.”
“You’ve had three classes!” said Peyton through clenched teeth.
“Tomorrow, noon. I’m calling Abe right now.”
Tag and Peyton exchanged a bewildered look, but before they could say anything more, the precinct erupted into action.
* * *
“What’s going on?” asked Peyton as Simons, Cho and Marco headed for the front doors, Jake on their heels.
“Sergeant Logan from the Civic Center Precinct called. They got a dead guy in a motel. He’s probably been there about a week,” said Cho, tightening the straps on his flak jacket.
Defino opened her office door and stepped out. Rosa Alvarez was right behind her. “Why did they contact us?” Defino asked.
“He’s got a card on him,” said Simons.
Defino exhaled.
“Method of death?” asked Peyton.
“Strangulation with an electric cord,” answered Cho.
Peyton glanced at Marco.
Tag pushed away from the counter. “Let’s roll then.” She went out the door, jogging down to the parking lot.
Peyton followed her, reaching for the keys to the Mustang.
Marco caught up. “I don’t suppose you’d stay here,” he suggested.
She stopped and turned to face him. “Really?”
He gave a helpless shrug.
“No!” She glared at him, then walked to the Mustang where Tag waited.
“Who’s got Ryder?” called Cho.
Marco blew out air in frustration. “I do.”
“I call shotgun,” said Ryder, angling toward the Charger.
“You’re the only other person in the car, idiot!” grumbled Marco as he pulled open the Charger’s door. “And don’t get anything on the seats!”
Jake stuck his tongue out at him, then winked at Peyton as he climbed inside. Peyton and Marco shared a look. She wanted to apologize to him, but she had to make sure he knew their relationship couldn’t change the way she did her job. Tag’s words about her pissing away her life for a man came back to her.
“Be careful,” she said.
“Yeah,” he answered, dropping into the seat.
Peyton climbed in and started the Mustang. The entire way over to the motel she worried about Marco and their relationship. What if he couldn’t accept her dedication to her job? What if he gradually started putting pressure on her to quit? He’d always been protective of her, but he’d never tried to stop her before. He’d always respected her ability to do her job without question.
The motel was a seedy rent-by-the-hour joint with cracked concrete and neon marquee with half the letters burnt out. A light rain was falling by the time the entire caravan pulled into the parking lot. Black and white police cars blocked the entrance and Marco had to show his badge before they were waved through. A crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, huddled together as they watched cops come and go from a room on the second floor, carrying bags of evidence.
Peyton pulled in behind Cho and Simons, setting the brake and turning the car off, then she and Tag climbed out. A uniform met them at the bottom of the cement stairs. Marco showed her his badge again and she motioned to the top.
Peyton found herself at the back of the procession as they climbed to the upper floor. The vic’s room was in the middle of the building, down a narrow corridor with rooms on one side and an open rail on the other that overlooked the parking lot.
Before they even got there, the smell hit them. Peyton fought the instinctive need to retch, covering her nose with her hand as she followed Tag into a dingy, dark room. A few uniforms were moving around, but a plain clothes cop separated himself and came toward them, offering his hand to Marco.
“Sergeant Logan,” he said.
“Lieutenant D’Angelo,” said Marco, shaking hands.
Peyton’s eyes fixed on the white drape covering the body, the orange and brown floral bedspread, and the peeling veneer on the nightstand. The walls were papered with yellowed seashells and rubber-back curtains in brown and orange stripes covered the windows. The only other furnishings were a battered dresser with a flat screen television sitting on top.
Jake settled his case on the floor and reached for his camera. “Did you bag the card?” he asked.
Sergeant Logan nodded, holding out his hand. A uniform placed a bag in it and Logan held it out to Jake. Jake lifted the bag into the light from the doorway and studied it.
“Is it the right font?” asked Simons.
“I think so,” said Jake, lowering it. He placed it in his case, then he started taking pictures.
“How’d they find him?” asked Marco.
“Guy rented the room for a month. Just got out of jail and was looking for a job. One of the tenants complained about a bad smell coming from the room, so the manager used his master key to see what it was.” Logan motioned over his shoulder. “Finds him just like that.”
Jake had lifted the drape, but he dropped it and stepped back, his face blanching.
“Yeah, it’s bad. Guy’s been dead about a week,” said Logan.
Marco walked over to the body and lifted the drape. “Do we have an ID?”
“Albert Ruiz. Just served six months for having sex with a minor. Girl was 15, says he lured her into his house and assaulted her. He says he paid her for sex.”
“Why’d he only get six months?”
“Girl’s been brought in on prostitution charges before.”
Peyton edged around Tag, trying to get a better look. She didn’t want to see the body, but she needed to get a lay of the crime scene.
“Oh shit!” said Logan.
Peyton glanced up to find him staring at her.
Cho and Simons shifted
and looked back at her as well.
“Is something wrong?” asked Marco, lowering the drape.
Logan backed up until he was beside him. “Come with me,” he said, leading him to the bathroom door just visible in the corner. Cho and Simons followed them.
Tag gave her a questioning look.
Peyton shrugged, then headed toward the bathroom herself.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this on the phone?” said Marco, his voice vibrating with anger.
“I didn’t realize who she was,” answered Logan.
Peyton moved to the door, but she couldn’t see past the men crowding the small space. Simons turned then and placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her backwards. “Why don’t we go outside?”
Peyton tried to push his hands away. “What is it?”
“Just come outside with me, okay?”
“Let me go, Bill.” She ducked under his arm and pushed her way past Marco and Cho, then came to a halt.
Pasted to the mirror were photographs of her.
She went still, staring at them. Moving forward, she reached out and touched one – her birthday, she recognized the dress Maria and Cho had given her. Another one of her as she and Marco stretched in her driveway. One of her in the park, laughing as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. And finally one of her standing by the Mustang in the parking lot of the precinct.
She swallowed hard.
Marco moved up behind her and she leaned back into him, needing to feel his solid presence.
“He was watching me at the precinct,” she said, surprised her voice came out so unsteadily.
“I know.”
She hugged her arms around herself. “He’s been watching me for some time.”
“I know.” His hands moved up her arms and she realized she was shaking again.
“I’m sorry,” said Sergeant Logan.
Peyton looked over at him.
“I was one of the cops who responded when you were abducted.”
Peyton didn’t know what to do with that.
Murder on Treasure Island (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 7) Page 26