MAD AS BELL

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MAD AS BELL Page 15

by Jeremy Waldron

“And you know this, how?”

  Nancy gave a little shoulder shrug. “We had drinks a few months back. Heidi let her secrets slip and, let’s just say, it’s your classic case of sleeping your way to the top.”

  I didn’t react—wasn’t at all surprised—however, I did ask, “But if she’s only doing what Daniels says, then who’s his source?”

  “That, I haven’t been able to figure out. I’m curious myself. In my limited research, I can’t link anything to a high school teacher sleeping with his students.” Nancy raised her eyebrows. “Anyway, you didn’t hear it from me.”

  I motioned like I was zipping my lips shut and Nancy smiled as she wished me good luck.

  I watched her walk away, thinking how Nancy and I had worked on a number of stories together—including the sniper case that tore through the Denver community. We weren’t the best of friends, and often competed with each other, but she was a colleague who I could trust. But why mention anything about Heidi at all? Was Nancy motivated by jealousy? Heidi did sweep the awards ceremony, receiving many awards Nancy qualified to take herself. There was more to her story than what she shared. There always was when it came to ratings.

  My phone buzzed. I recognized the number this time. It was Archie. As soon as I answered, he said, “Quick, Sam. An Amber Alert was just announced. It could be the serial rapist I’ve been telling you about.”

  “Where are you?” I asked, looking around, wondering why it seemed as if only Archie knew.

  Archie told me where. Then he said, “Catch me if you can.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  King helped load the vic into the back of the coroner’s van when Griffin said, “Swing by my office tomorrow. If you really believe this Jane Doe exists, we’ll get it sorted out.”

  King nodded his appreciation and closed the back door. He gave two swift knocks on the side to let the driver know they were finished, and he heard the brakes release just before watching it drive away.

  Standing there feeling exhausted, he turned his head and caught sight of Samantha leaning against the hood of her car. Her head was down and she had her phone pressed to her ear. He wanted nothing more than to close out his night wrapped inside her arms, but Alvarez’s comments still hung over his head like dirty smog.

  Samantha must have felt him staring because she lifted her head and they locked eyes for a brief moment before she got behind the wheel and left the scene.

  Not knowing how he was going to approach this new level of scrutiny with the woman he loved, his attention swung to the boots crunching over gravel behind him. Turning to see who was coming, Lieutenant Baker stood by King’s side. Without looking, King knew what LT had seen—what it was he was thinking—and it wasn’t good.

  “Our canvas of the area came up empty,” King said. “Griffin thinks the body was dumped as little as twelve hours ago so witnesses may have moved on since.” He flicked his gaze to LT. “The sun would have been up. Someone must have seen something.”

  LT was quiet for a long pause. Then he said, “This whole thing is a fucking mess. Megan’s name should have never been given to the press and don’t get me started on the FBI coming. I know you and the rest of the team are perfectly capable of handling this case.”

  “Thanks, LT.”

  LT turned to face King. “But we still have a missing girl.”

  “Two, actually,” King corrected his superior, reminding him of Jane Doe.

  LT gave him a stern look, deciding not to take the bait.

  King said, “You are aware that Jane Doe never made it to the morgue, aren’t you?”

  LT turned his attention toward the river. “I was at the press conference. Same as you.”

  “Griffin confirmed it,” King said. When LT didn’t respond, King asked, “Did you pull me off that case on purpose? Because Detective Gray didn’t need me at the hospital.”

  “The chief is worried about leaks after tonight’s press conference.” LT met King’s eye. “The media knows too much and has probably already tainted our investigation—possibly even ruined any chances of a conviction once we do manage to catch the S.O.B. behind these murders.”

  “Are you saying there is only one suspect, because I’m thinking there might be more than that. There are too many differences.”

  “As of this moment, we’re treating it as if there is only one suspect and I expect you to do the same.” LT made it clear this wasn’t up for negotiation. “Which is why I need you to focus on this case, here, tonight.”

  King stared. He heard LT, loud and clear. “You’re taking me off the Jenny Booth case? You can’t. Not now that Megan has been found dead. These cases are related. What I learn here could save Jenny’s life.”

  “Didn’t you just tell me we should be looking for a second suspect?”

  King turned his head and swallowed his pride, not wanting to play politics with the person who controlled his career. He was already walking on eggshells by sleeping with a reporter—apparently the same journalist the department had suddenly lost trust in.

  “Just so we’re clear, it wasn’t my call.”

  King snapped his neck and gave LT a questioning look.

  LT warned King, “A loose tongue has destroyed many officers’ careers. Don’t let yours be next.”

  King tipped his head back and narrowed his gaze, wondering when LT would learn to keep his mouth shut. Instead, LT continued.

  “You hear me? Pillow talk gets men divorced because their wives can’t handle the grim realities we see every day. But in your case, pillow talk can make careers.”

  “You’ve got my relationship all wrong,” King said.

  “It’s not me. It’s the chief who believes your extracurricular activities with Samantha have gone too far.” LT inched closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You’re a good cop, but tonight’s press conference was a disaster and there are people with a higher pay grade than mine who aren’t happy about it.”

  “I can’t change my life.”

  “Then redeem yourself by giving them something they can use.” LT stepped away and said, “You know how this game is played. It’s all about appearances.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Music was streaming from the radio, playing a soft melody in the background as Susan sat behind her desk inside her downtown office. Since her lunch with Owen Daniels, and after dropping Naomi at home, she’d been swept up in work trying to revive a deal that her colleague Carly McKenzie couldn’t close.

  “Your offer was brilliant. We’ve just decided to go with another company we feel is better suited for the vision we see,” Susan’s prospective client had told her.

  It was too late to rework a proposal and there was nothing else Susan could do.

  After reviewing her accounts and crunching numbers, Susan muttered, “This can’t be happening.”

  She had enough money in the bank to survive the next three months of operation, but if she didn’t work something quick, she wouldn’t be able to cover her payroll. She looked across the hall and felt the empty pit in her stomach expand when thinking about the responsibility she had to her employees.

  She’d thought this gig was in the bag. What happened? In fact, Susan was so certain this client would agree to her proposal that she declined several other offers while waiting for this one to close. It was a mistake she regretted deeply. She needed a miracle, and quick.

  Her cell buzzed. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

  Owen Daniels said, “I have that effect on women.”

  Susan leaned back in her chair, stared up into the ceiling, and smiled. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Besides you?”

  “Yeah,” Susan murmured. “Besides me.”

  “Not much.”

  The curl in the corner of Susan’s lips deepened. Was Daniels the miracle she needed? She certainly thought he could be. “That might work on other women, but not me.”

  “Then let me try this.” Daniels’s voice was light with charm.
“I’d like to come inside but the door is locked.”

  Susan sprang forward, planted her feet into the ground, and peeked her head into the hallway. Gazing toward the front door, a tingling sensation spread across the backs of her shoulders when she caught sight of Daniels flashing a bright smile through the front window.

  He said through the phone, “Care to let me in?”

  Susan hurried to the front door, twisted the deadbolt, and opened the door. “Hi,” she said, feeling a little breathless at his timing.

  “Hi.”

  “Welcome to my second home.”

  Daniels stepped inside and peeked around. “It’s lovely.”

  Without a thought, Susan reached out and touched his arm. His muscles were as hard as they looked, and the fabric of his three-piece suit as expensive as it felt. He smelled delightful. When he leaned closer, Susan’s breath hitched.

  His eyes glimmered when he said, “I wanted to reward you.”

  “Reward me?” Susan’s eyes danced with his, curious to know what she’d done to be rewarded.

  “Thanks to the information you shared at lunch, we were able to interview Jenny Booth’s mother. It aired tonight.”

  Susan’s head floated with elation. After talking to Naomi and dropping her off at home, she hadn’t given the teen another thought. She felt ashamed—it was selfish of her to concentrate on work when Naomi’s best friend was missing. Her goddaughter clearly needed someone to talk to. It was naïve for Susan to think that one conversation could change anything, but that’s all she’d given her. She had responsibilities, too, and her employees counted on her to provide regular work.

  “I missed it,” Susan said, hustling back to her office to check her phone as if expecting to find a message from Cindy waiting. “Did they find her? Please tell me they found her and that she’s all right.”

  Daniels casually hid his hands inside his pants pockets and gave Susan a look of sympathy. “She’s still missing, but when she is found,” he stepped forward and raised his eyebrows as he locked eyes with Susan, “alive, you will be the hero who brought the world’s attention to her whereabouts.”

  “I just want her to return safely. My goddaughter is devastated over this, and half the school’s girls are worrying they will be next.”

  Daniels’s cellphone vibrated somewhere inside his sport coat. Susan watched him check it and ignore it. “You can take it if you need,” Susan assured him. “I know how work never rests.”

  Daniels’s expression hardened as he pocketed the device. “We should celebrate.”

  “An interview is hardly worth celebrating.”

  “Agreed. But I want to take you to dinner regardless. Where should we go?”

  “I haven’t said yes.”

  Daniels smirked, looked around. “You’re done with work, aren’t you?”

  Susan bit the inside of her cheek, debated whether or not this was a good idea. She already felt guilty for not being with Cindy and Naomi. The client she lost today was still looming overhead. Then she remembered Daniels offering her access to his network, and desperation won over empathy.

  She asked, “Is this a date, or something else?”

  “You can call it whatever you like,” he took her hand into his, and added, “but, please, can we not discuss work?”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  King hadn’t moved since his conversation ended with LT. All he could hear was his superior’s parting words, it’s all about appearances. There was no way he was about to end his relationship with the woman he loved, but he also wasn’t ready to hand in his badge, either. The upper brass was clearly looking for a fall guy in this mess, and King knew it was up to him to clear his name. The question was, how? Once he had that figured out, would he be able to do it before time ran out?

  Alvarez came out of the shadows and gave him a look from beneath his lowered brow.

  King said, “We’ve been reassigned.”

  “No. You’ve been reassigned.”

  King flicked his gaze to his partner. “What are you talking about?”

  Alvarez turned and looked to his unmarked cruiser and said, “An Amber Alert just went out.”

  King’s heartrate spiked. This was news to him. King retrieved his cellphone and dialed detective Gray’s cell.

  Alvarez furrowed his brow and said in a low tone, “You keep going off the reservation, DPD and the upper brass will make sure you eat your gun.”

  The line rang in King’s ear. He said, “This isn’t about Jenny.”

  “No. Then what is it about?”

  “Megan. Jane Doe.” King’s voice grew louder the harder his heart pumped. “It’s about the asshole who is destroying these young women’s lives.”

  Alvarez showed his palms and took a step back. The line clicked over and Gray answered. “I was about to call you,” she said.

  King asked, “What’s happening?”

  “It’s bad. Something you won’t believe unless you see it for yourself.”

  King was already hurrying to his car by the time Gray told him where to meet. He opened his car door and Alvarez caught his arm. “You better let me drive so you can say I dragged your sorry ass with me.”

  King didn’t put up a fight, instead jumped into the passenger seat and clicked his seatbelt tight over his lap as Alvarez sped away. He raced across town with sirens blaring. King directed him where to go, and Alvarez kept flashing looks of doubt that King caught out of the corner of his eye.

  He knew he was deliberately going against LT’s orders to stay off the Jenny Booth kidnapping case, but this wasn’t about Jenny. Alvarez was right. This was about a city on edge and a possible connection to Megan’s killer.

  The two-way radio crackled and King turned up the volume. They listened to initial reports coming through, confirming Gray’s words; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How was this possible? On the same day Megan’s body was found? Was this perp replacing one with another?

  By the time they arrived, there were two patrol cars and Gray’s sedan parked out front of a two-story, three-bedroom house on the south side of the city. Gray came rushing out as soon as she saw King arrive. Once he opened his door and stepped foot on the pavement, he could hear a woman yelling for Gray not to leave her. King assumed she was the mother of the missing girl because of how hysterical she was, and understandably so.

  King said to Gray, “I heard the reports on our way over. Anything new?”

  Gray’s eyes were as wide as a cat’s and her skin flushed. “Seventeen-year-old, Latina, ripped from her mother’s arms as they were walking the streets. A security video was pulled from a nearby convenience store confirming her story, and it showed everything. Two men put the girl in their dark colored passenger van and fled the scene.”

  King’s entire body flexed in preparation for war. This was bad, really bad. “What’s the girl’s name?”

  “Jessica Hinojos.” Gray’s jaw tightened. “And it gets worse.”

  Worse? How could it possibly get worse?

  “She’s also a student at South High.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Owen Daniels closed the tab on a wonderfully luxurious meal and handed it off to the waitress. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said to Susan who was watching him, “I’m off to the men’s room.”

  Susan smiled, thinking how handsome he was and how satisfying the meal.

  Daniels reached for her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles in gentle, firm strokes. “Promise to miss me while I’m gone?”

  “Only if you promise to not take too long.”

  Daniels’s eyes crinkled as he smiled and kissed the back of her hand. Susan blushed and watched her date weave his way into the back corner of the restaurant. On the opposite side of the room, a pianist tapped the keys next to a violinist. Tonight was perfect. A candlelight dinner from one of the city’s top-rated chefs, and a finished bottle of wine—their second of the day. Still, Susan asked herself what exactly she was doing with
Daniels. Sure, he was incredibly generous, handsome, and funny, but would she kiss him if he tried?

  She opened her purse and applied a new layer of lipstick as she thought about how unfair life was. How was it possible she could live this life of luxury without a care in the world when another woman was too sick with worry to eat because her daughter was missing and she didn’t know where to find her?

  As soon as she closed her purse, she flicked her gaze toward the restrooms. Daniels stood in the hallway near the window with his phone pressed to his ear.

  Knitting her eyebrows, Susan couldn’t help but notice his agitation. The way he carried himself, the way his shoulders appeared tight. Who could he be talking to at this hour? It had to be work. Daniels caught sight of her and smiled before turning his back and disappearing behind the wall.

  Susan didn’t want to read too far into his actions, but something didn’t seem right. She reached for her own phone, thinking about messaging Sam and letting her know she had a way in with Daniels. In the end she decided against it, fearing it might create unnecessary problems for them both.

  “Shall we?”

  Surprised, Susan turned to find Daniels hovering over her left shoulder. He offered his hand and pulled her to her feet. He smiled, but there was a definite glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. Had he used the restroom at all?

  She asked, “Everything all right?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “Just work.”

  “And we can’t talk about that.” Susan smiled, attempting to lighten the mood as she threaded her arm through the crook of his.

  A small laugh passed over Daniels’s lips and they began to walk.

  She liked the way she fit next to him—liked how strangers were looking at her with admiration in their eyes. Daniels was at the top and everyone knew it. Outside, they walked beneath a star-studded sky and Susan didn’t want the night to end. At the car, Daniels opened Susan’s door and said, “I had a wonderful time. Lunch and dinner.”

 

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