Eleven by Carolyn Arnold Page B

the tray and took another inhale.
    I let out a deep breath. “He’s going to have me killed.”
    Still no reaction from Jack, just a slow and steady hand up, cigarette sucked on, exhale of white smoke, ashes tapped off in the tray.
    “The killer was in Salt Lick. They know about the discovery.”
    “He was at some point. We figured that.”
    “I don’t understand why you’re not taking this seriously.”
    He stopped moving, his arm paused mid-way to his mouth. “I take this very seriously.”
    “You sure aren’t giving me that impression.”
    “Listen, Kid, getting yourself all worked up doesn’t accomplish a thing.”
    “I’m the target of a psychopath.”
    “That hasn’t been proven yet.” Another draw on the cigarette.
    My hands balled into fists on my lap. Jack noticed. His eyes dived there, before returning to look over the parking lot.
    “We need to find this person.”
    “And we will.”
    “I guess. Why should you be worried? It’s not your picture.”
    Jack laughed so hard it forced a deep cough from his lungs.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “You’re not so good under pressure, Kid. You’ll have to work on that.”
    “Why are we just sitting here?”
    “You wanted to talk.”
    “Ah.” I let the moan give birth to audible. “Our best lead to this killer is that piece of mail.” My mind went to the photograph, to the envelope, the defilement of evidence. It hadn’t even occurred to me at that moment because when I noticed the picture all common sense left me. “You tampered with the evidence. There could have been prints.”
    “I sit here listening to you sulk whine and panic. But I draw the line when you insult my skills. I’ve been an agent almost as long as you’ve been alive.” He snuffed out the cigarette pushing it down hard enough to crumble the entire remains to ash.
    “Then you should have known better.”
    “May I remind you that you report to me.”
    “You do every opportunity you get.” The words slipped out and I wished instantly that I could retract them. I glanced out the window, then back to Jack. “Maybe I’m just being a little—”
    “Paranoid?” Jack paused. “Are you going to be able to keep a cool head for this case and pull yourself together?”
    Seconds passed. I answered, “My life was threatened.”
    “Hmm.”
    “No, hear me out. It’s not like that happens every day.” Jack’s eyes met mine. “I’m fine now.” He studied my expression and had me questioning my resolve.

     
    We left the prison and touched base with Paige and Zachery. They had ended up visiting both Sally Windermere’s former fiancé and his parents, due to our last minute detour but didn’t come out any further ahead. No one seemed to know much about other people in Sally’s life. Everyone described her as a good girl who would never run off and hurt people like this. They didn’t know of any enemies or people that held anything against her. We filled them in on everything that happened at the prison and arranged to meet them back at Betty’s Place in about an hour.
    I held the laptop and powered it up. My mind was on my Twitter account and on Bingham’s followers. I wanted to know if he said anything else. The mail intended for Bingham lay on the back seat sealed in an evidence bag. “What about your prints?”
    Jack had lit another cigarette the minute we stepped up into the SUV. It was almost gone now and it was only five minutes later. “What about ’em?”
    “They’ve littered the evidence.”
    A smile lifted Jack’s mouth. “We’re back to that? You worry too much, Kid. With technology these days it’s not going to be an issue.”
    “They can lift prints even if they’re layered?”
    “Yep.”
    “Huh.”
    “See I’ve been an agent longer than—”
    “I know almost as long as I’ve been alive.”
    The onboard phone rang. Jack answered. “Speak to me.”
    “Special Agent Jack Harper?”
    “This is. You’re also on speaker with Special Agent