This was the guy stalking Kyra? No wonder she carried a gun.
“Do you know Kyra Chase?”
A smile that didn’t have anything do to with happiness spread across Dugan’s face, and a knot formed in Jake’s gut.
“Why? Is she dead...like her momma?”
A muscle ticked in Jake’s jaw, but he matched Dugan smile for smile. “C’mon, Dugan. You’d know that wasn’t true because I hear you keep close tabs on her.”
“She wishes, my man. You know them bitches.” Dugan stroked his goatee. “They don’t never forget their first.”
A white-hot rage zipped through Jake’s veins. If Dugan had been Kyra’s first, it had been by force.
“You obviously know who she is.” Jake widened his stance and dug the heels of his shoes into the stained carpet. “Have you been by her place? Her car?”
“Nope. Did she send you here?” Dugan ran his nails along his arm like a junkie looking for a fix. Weed didn’t do that.
“No. She doesn’t know I’m here.” Jake wandered over to the table and swept up the cards.
“Hey, I was playing that game.” Dugan took a step forward, and Jake stopped him with a look.
He shuffled the cards in his hands. “You’ve heard about this serial killer who’s copying the MO of the same killer that murdered Kyra’s mother, haven’t you?”
“I don’t pay much attention to that stuff.” Dugan’s gaze tracked every flick of Jake’s fingers as he plucked two cards from the deck.
He held up the two dark queens. “Looks like you haven’t been playing with a full deck, Dugan.”
He licked his lips. “What do you mean?”
“You’re missing the queen of hearts and the queen of diamonds.” Jake tossed the deck back onto the table, where it fanned out.
“So what? That’s some old deck someone left here.” He clenched his ham fists at his sides. “I didn’t have nothing to do with no murders.”
“Maybe not, but you did have something to do with terrorizing Kyra Chase.” Jake rushed the big man and rammed him up against the thin wall, which quaked under their combined weight.
Jake squeezed his hand against the beefy neck, his fingers pinching into the Aryan Brotherhood tattoo. “I’m here to tell you to stop, or you’re gonna wind up back in the slammer faster than you can say three strikes. You got that?”
Dugan gurgled in response and Jake took it as a yes. He released Dugan, and he slid down the wall, choking and clawing at his chest.
“And since this is a faulty deck, I’ll just take it with me.” He gathered the cards and put the stack in his pocket. “Learn to play solitaire on the computer.”
Jake strode from the apartment, leaving the door open on Dugan’s gasping sounds. The guy deserved worse for tormenting Kyra. At least the killer himself didn’t have Kyra in his sights. Why would he? He wouldn’t have access to the original case files on The Player and even if he did, you’d have to know what you were looking for to make the connection between Marilyn Lake and Kyra Chase.
Should he tell Kyra he’d paid a visit to Dugan and cleared things up? He yanked open his car door, shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it in the back. She probably wouldn’t appreciate his efforts. Instead of the white knight, he’d come across looking like the frog.
He raced back to the station to make his own four-thirty briefing. He wanted to give everyone a heads-up on the Melrose connection between Kelsey, Rachel’s phone and Marissa’s cup from the coffee place in the same area.
When he walked into the task force war room, his gaze tracked to Kyra chatting with Brandon. She lifted her eyebrows at him, and he nodded her way, a sense of relief flooding his system. He’d spared her from any more random cards showing up on her doorstep. He didn’t even need to take the credit for it.
He grabbed a file from his desk and signaled to Brandon to follow him to the briefing room to start the slideshow. When everyone was gathered, Jake presented the Melrose info, calling out the two sheriff’s deputies from the West Hollywood division on loan to the task force to help canvass that area. Then he turned the meeting over to Billy for an overview of their efforts in identifying the Malibu fire victim.
Jake wound up the meeting by asking for any new information or clues. One of the detectives who was working closely with the medical examiner’s office confirmed that both Marissa and Kelsey had small puncture wounds in their necks, which may have been how the killer had gotten the women away from their cars and into his without much of an apparent struggle. Both toxicology tests were pending. Jake assured everyone once the drug used to subdue the women was identified it would give them another avenue to check.
“This guy is not as clean as he thinks he is.” He signaled Brandon to bring up the last slide, which contained pictures of the three murder victims. They had to remember the stakes here. “Anything else?”
From the back of the room, Kyra’s hand shot up and uneasiness stirred in his gut, which was reason number eighty-eight why you didn’t get involved with anyone from work. “Ms. Chase? You have something to add?”
Her voice, confident and composed, rang out. “I had an extensive conversation with Marissa Perez’s friends this afternoon over the phone, and I wanted to bring up the issue of the jewelry and Kelsey’s missing nose stud.”
She commanded the attention of the room with her cool, professional demeanor, and a little flicker of pride tapped his chest, although he didn’t know why or at least didn’t want to look at it too closely. “Go ahead.”
“Marissa’s friends told me she always wore a jade bracelet. I don’t know if that was found on her and the friends don’t, either, as her belongings are still in evidence. I wanted to know if the jade bracelet was found with Marissa.”
Jake turned to his partner. “Billy?”
“I don’t remember.” Billy pointed a finger at Brandon. “Can you find and bring up the photo of Marissa’s possessions?”
Brandon turned off the connection from the computer to the display and began clicking through the electronic files on Marissa’s case.
Brandon murmured to nobody in particular. “Got the files. Clothing, jewelry. Here.”
He reactivated the display and a photo of jewelry appeared on the screen.
Jake said, “Zoom, please.”
The image of the pieces got bigger and contained a pair of hoop earrings, two necklaces—one with a cross, the other with the letter M, and three rings.
“I don’t see a bracelet. Anyone see a bracelet?” Jake glanced around the room. “So, Marissa wasn’t found with a jade bracelet her friends say she wore all the time and Kelsey didn’t have her nose stud, which her parents said she’d just gotten. Either those pieces were lost in the struggle, at the dump sites or our boy is taking something other than his victims’ fingers for his trophy. To be sure Marissa didn’t just leave it at home that day, I’ll reach out to her roommate again.”
Kyra coughed and Jake jerked his head up. “Anything else, Ms. Chase?”
“Uh, no.” She stepped back to her place against the wall.
“Lights.” Jake waved an arm in the air. “Thanks, everyone. Good work. We’ll get this guy. I can feel it.”
The team members who had desks in the war room shuffled back to their seats, the rest left for their own desks or left for the day.
As Jake pulled up a chair to his own desk, Kyra sauntered over and leaned her hip against the corner. “I did have something to add at the end, but I didn’t want to announce it.”
“Oh?” Jake’s pulse ticked up a few notches. He couldn’t help it. Excitement and drama seemed to swirl around this woman, and it drew him into her orbit every time.
“Marissa’s roommate, Darcy, was on the call today and she invited me over to their place tomorrow—not only to look for the bracelet but to talk with her. She’s still pretty upset.”
“Can’t Darcy just look for the bracelet herself? That’s what I was going to ask her to do.”
“Darcy is staying with friends right now. She can’t go back to the apartment.”
“Understood. Thanks for letting me know.” His cell phone, sitting on the desk next to his computer, buzzed with an incoming text.
Kyra glanced down at it and then at his face. “Do you need to get that?”
“It’s just a text, not a call.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Is there anything else?”
“No.” She picked up his phone and handed it to him, and then pushed away from the desk with her hip.
He looked down at the display and a text from Mike’s Bike Shop. He tapped it, and he scanned the message from Matt Dugan.
I left those cards but someone paid me. if you wanna know who and u want the 411 on Mimi, I take cash
* * *
KYRA SLIPPED THE set of keys to one of the LAPD detective squad sedans into the pocket of her jacket, which she usually wore in the chilly AC of the station. She caught her breath as one of the guys from the task force swept up behind her to drop off the keys to a squad car.
He smiled and said, “You’re a good addition to the task force. Glad to have you on board. Have a nice evening.”
“Thanks. You, too.” Her fingers curled around the keys so tightly they pinched her fingers.
She had to be ready for Jake’s exit. Would he go straight to his meeting with Matt? She hoped so.
Hearing voices from the war room, she ducked into the lunchroom and flattened herself against the wall.
Jake’s voice carried down the hallway. “I don’t have any plans tonight. Grab some dinner on the way home.”
A voice that sounded like Billy’s murmured something in reply.
Jake swore. “Dude, if you want to meet Megan Wright, ask Kyra yourself or just call the TV station. When has the lack of an introduction ever fazed you before?”
Kyra pressed her fingers to her lips. Billy wanted to meet Megan? Seemed there was a lot Jake McAllister was keeping from her. A whole helluva lot.
She couldn’t try to follow him on foot out to the parking lot. He’d make her in two seconds. She had to believe the noises from the other room meant he was leaving.
Lowering her head and counting the number of tiles on the floor, she scurried from the station and walked quickly to the unmarked cars in the lot. The car she wanted wasn’t even locked, so she slid behind the wheel and slumped down. She had no doubt if the LAPD wanted to find out who’d taken one of their unmarked detective cars after the shift change they’d have no problem seeing her on camera, but she’d worry about that later.
She watched the comings and goings over the rim of the steering wheel until she saw Jake’s unmistakable stride in the parking lot.
He opened the trunk and loaded his satchel, which contained his laptop, and a couple of boxes of files. Then he climbed into the driver’s side and took off.
Kyra started the car and pulled out of the parking lot after him. He wouldn’t be expecting one of the other detectives to follow him, but she stayed a few car lengths behind him.
When Jake turned onto a crowded Sunset Boulevard, her stomach knotted. He was going home—and she had his address. Had he already talked to Matt over the phone? No, she’d watched him too closely. After the initial message from Matt, he’d texted a few times and then seemed to settle in to work.
She’d known that the text on Jake’s phone had come from Matt. She recognized Mike’s Bike Shop as the motorcycle repair place where Matt worked. She couldn’t imagine Matt reaching out to a cop. Jake must’ve contacted Matt first.
So, did she feel sorry about borrowing an LAPD vehicle and following Jake? Not at all. He already knew her car and would’ve spotted the tail.
She could call Matt and ask him what he was doing, but then she’d be in his debt. And she never, ever wanted to be in Matt Dugan’s debt. Besides, she couldn’t trust a word out of Matt’s mouth. She couldn’t trust a word out of Jake’s mouth, either.
When he turned off the boulevard and started heading for the hills, she slowed the car. She couldn’t follow him to his house in the Hollywood Hills with the winding, narrow roads and spaced-apart housing. He’d see her headlights behind him at every turn.
After the first mile into the hills and as other cars dropped off, Kyra pulled into a turnout that led to a small dog park. She cut her lights and buzzed down the window.
Matt would most likely meet Jake at the bike shop. That’s where Matt conducted all his business, and this was business. He wouldn’t have Jake at his apartment—too risky with the drugs and weapons and unsavory friends. She pulled up the GPS on her phone. She knew the exact locations of the bike shop and Matt’s apartment. She believed in keeping her enemies close, or at least on her radar.
If Jake was driving to Van Nuys, and she believed he was, he’d have to wend his way down the hill again and take Sunset. He’d have to pass this way and she’d see him.
Her stomach rumbled and she regretted not eating something at the station while she waited for Jake to leave. Of course, she could have this all wrong. Maybe Matt had already said all he had to say to Jake over text messaging. Maybe they’d set up their meeting for another night.
But she knew the way Matt’s mind worked. If he had info to sell Jake, he’d want to do that right away. She’d have to get to Matt before Jake did. She could convince Matt that Jake wanted to entrap him, to arrest him and send him back inside.
Each time a pair of headlights came winding down the hill, Kyra’s heart jumped, until about an hour into her wait when she spotted Jake’s sedan. Of course, he’d use his police car. He was technically on police business.
When the red of his taillights disappeared around the next bend, Kyra pulled out of her hiding place and hurtled down to Sunset.
She saw Jake’s car make the left turn. He had to be going to Van Nuys. She’d take the risk. If she couldn’t beat Jake to his destination, there was no point in showing up at all.
When she hit the signal at Sunset, she flicked on the light inside the car and squealed around the corner. She’d been in Quinn’s car enough times to know how things worked.
She floored it and blared the siren a few times to get around traffic. Jake wouldn’t wonder at an unmarked car racing to a call, even if he noticed it. Other cars parted for her as she careened down Sunset, leaving Jake in her dust.
If Mike’s wasn’t their meeting place, she’d find out soon enough. And if it was, she’d catch Matt by surprise and convince him Jake was up to no good. What was Jake up to?
She cranked up her speed on the freeway, slipping into the carpool lane, the red light still revolving in the window of the car. When she got off the freeway, she continued pressing her luck on Van Nuys Boulevard. She’d passed only two patrol cars on her way, and neither one had seemed interested in her pursuit, probably because nothing had come over their radios.
She finally cut off the light and stopped bleeping the siren within about two blocks of Mike’s. She’d gotten a good head start on Jake, but she’d have to act quickly.
She spotted the yellow sign with the motorcycle on it and cruised past the closed metal doors of the shop. She knew the owner had a patio in the back of the shop on the alley where bikers gathered sometimes, smoked a little weed and harassed the working girls. Matt’s unofficial office. She knew a lot more about her former foster brother than she’d ever let on to him.
She wheeled the big car around the corner and parked it alongside the curb. Before she got out of the car, she hitched her purse across her body with the gun pouch facing out. She scrambled from the car, ignoring a homeless guy and a couple in the shadows, their heads together with their drug dealer.
She stepped into the alley, her nose twitching at the smell of garbage. She still had her work clothes on, and her h
eels clicked too loudly on the asphalt.
A yellow light spilled onto the white picket fence that marked the patio behind Mike’s. As she approached, Kyra called out softly. “Matt? Matt, it’s Mimi.”
If she had to deal with any of the guys from the shop, she’d try to scare them off too with the promise of an LAPD cop on his way to wreck their little party.
But there was no party. She saw no heads poking above the fence, and she cursed under her breath. She’d been wrong. Jake could be meeting with Matt right now, and Matt could be telling him all kinds of things...about her.
Her ears picked up a slow moan that made the hair on the back of her neck quiver. She flattened her hand against her gun pouch. “Matt?”
When she reached the fence and peered over, she staggered back. Matt Dugan, her nemesis, lay sprawled on the patio, foam bubbling at the side of his mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head. Was he dead?
And then he moaned again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jake rolled down Van Nuys Boulevard just in time to witness the underbelly come alive as the sun sank in a hazy sky.
Dugan had set up their meeting behind his place of work, a motorcycle repair shop that had closed a few hours ago. He’d indicated he conducted all his business from a small patio in the back of the shop. Jake was sure that business could result in several arrests. But he had a different mission.
He parked in front of the business and loped around to the back. A couple veered out of his way by crossing to the other side of the street, the male partner tugging the rim of his baseball cap lower on his face. Maybe they’d just come from doing business with Dugan.
Jake followed the building around the back and spotted an area enclosed by a white picket fence—kind of homey for an alley.
As he peered over the slats, his heart slammed against his chest. The door to the patio stood ajar, sagging on one hinge, and he barreled through it toward the man sprawled on the ground, a woman hovering over him.
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