gulping breaths to rid her senses of the death smell, Sam doubted they’d be so curious if they saw even a fraction of what she did on any given day.
Freddie jogged down the street to join her. “Last confirmed sighting was yesterday morning,” he reported, consulting his notes. “The owner of the coffee shop on the corner said she bought her usual soy latte after her morning run. From what the neighbors said, she worked nights, ran five miles after her shift ended, got her latte and then went home to sleep. Never deviated from the routine. Seven days a week.”
“So someone was either watching her or knew her routine and was waiting for her when she got back to her apartment. Maybe took her by surprise or pulled the knife to get her inside.”
“No one I’ve talked to so far recalls a man hanging out in the area.”
“Mrs. Smithson said they work five nights a week cleaning the Capitol, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“And Lightfeather said Regina spent ‘most nights’ after work with him, but they argued about where she was the other nights.”
“Right.”
“I want to know where they were those other two nights too.” Sam consulted her watch. Almost seven o’clock. “Let’s turn the canvas over to second shift and pick this up in the morning. We’ll meet at HQ at seven and bring everyone up to speed on what we have so far. I’ll talk to Malone about putting out an alert to immigrant women in the city, just in case this isn’t related to where they worked.”
“You don’t think it’s unrelated, though, do you?”
Sam rested her hands on her hips. “I’m leaning toward related, but I’ve learned not to make assumptions until I know more.”
“We’ll hit it hard in the morning,” Freddie said.
“You bet we will.”
She handed him the slip of paper with Maria’s family contact information. “Until then, I need you to make a phone call.”
Freddie glanced at the paper. “Ugh. Do I have to?”
“Someone does, and just in case they don’t speak English, you get the short straw. While you’re at it, give JoAnn Smithson a call too. Let her know about Maria.”
“Oh gee, lucky me.” He snatched the paper from her. “I hate making these calls.”
“Don’t we all, Detective? Don’t we all?”
Sam spent an hour at HQ updating the murder board and making notes about what she knew about the two victims, which wasn’t much. Regina was thirty, Maria twenty-eight. Both had been in the country for about two years. Both had applied for permanent citizenship. Sam knew Regina’s application had been denied, but Maria’s status was unclear. She wondered if Senator Lightfeather would know and decided to pay him a visit on the way home.
After consulting with Captain Malone, she issued an alert to the media to warn young immigrant women living in the city to be vigilant in and around their places of residence. She didn’t mention the similarities between the two murders, lest she set off hysteria in the city. Hopefully, they could apprehend the perpetrator before that became necessary.
On her way to the Washington Hilton on Connecticut Avenue, she received a call from Darren Tabor.
“No comment,” she said as she activated the speaker on her phone.
“I haven’t asked the question yet.”
“Just because Nick and I gave you one exclusive doesn’t mean you can randomly call me any time you want.” Sam had reluctantly agreed to sit for a joint interview with Nick after their engagement. They’d granted the interview to Tabor because he’d given them a heads-up that the Reporter tabloid planned to run a story about Sam’s long-ago near-abortion and figured they owed him one. Now they were even—at least as far as Sam was concerned.
“I made you look really good in that article,” Tabor said.
Sam snorted. “I don’t need your help to look really good.”
Laughing, Tabor said, “You might want to work on your self-esteem, Lieutenant. I hate to see you so down on
Freddie jogged down the street to join her. “Last confirmed sighting was yesterday morning,” he reported, consulting his notes. “The owner of the coffee shop on the corner said she bought her usual soy latte after her morning run. From what the neighbors said, she worked nights, ran five miles after her shift ended, got her latte and then went home to sleep. Never deviated from the routine. Seven days a week.”
“So someone was either watching her or knew her routine and was waiting for her when she got back to her apartment. Maybe took her by surprise or pulled the knife to get her inside.”
“No one I’ve talked to so far recalls a man hanging out in the area.”
“Mrs. Smithson said they work five nights a week cleaning the Capitol, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“And Lightfeather said Regina spent ‘most nights’ after work with him, but they argued about where she was the other nights.”
“Right.”
“I want to know where they were those other two nights too.” Sam consulted her watch. Almost seven o’clock. “Let’s turn the canvas over to second shift and pick this up in the morning. We’ll meet at HQ at seven and bring everyone up to speed on what we have so far. I’ll talk to Malone about putting out an alert to immigrant women in the city, just in case this isn’t related to where they worked.”
“You don’t think it’s unrelated, though, do you?”
Sam rested her hands on her hips. “I’m leaning toward related, but I’ve learned not to make assumptions until I know more.”
“We’ll hit it hard in the morning,” Freddie said.
“You bet we will.”
She handed him the slip of paper with Maria’s family contact information. “Until then, I need you to make a phone call.”
Freddie glanced at the paper. “Ugh. Do I have to?”
“Someone does, and just in case they don’t speak English, you get the short straw. While you’re at it, give JoAnn Smithson a call too. Let her know about Maria.”
“Oh gee, lucky me.” He snatched the paper from her. “I hate making these calls.”
“Don’t we all, Detective? Don’t we all?”
Sam spent an hour at HQ updating the murder board and making notes about what she knew about the two victims, which wasn’t much. Regina was thirty, Maria twenty-eight. Both had been in the country for about two years. Both had applied for permanent citizenship. Sam knew Regina’s application had been denied, but Maria’s status was unclear. She wondered if Senator Lightfeather would know and decided to pay him a visit on the way home.
After consulting with Captain Malone, she issued an alert to the media to warn young immigrant women living in the city to be vigilant in and around their places of residence. She didn’t mention the similarities between the two murders, lest she set off hysteria in the city. Hopefully, they could apprehend the perpetrator before that became necessary.
On her way to the Washington Hilton on Connecticut Avenue, she received a call from Darren Tabor.
“No comment,” she said as she activated the speaker on her phone.
“I haven’t asked the question yet.”
“Just because Nick and I gave you one exclusive doesn’t mean you can randomly call me any time you want.” Sam had reluctantly agreed to sit for a joint interview with Nick after their engagement. They’d granted the interview to Tabor because he’d given them a heads-up that the Reporter tabloid planned to run a story about Sam’s long-ago near-abortion and figured they owed him one. Now they were even—at least as far as Sam was concerned.
“I made you look really good in that article,” Tabor said.
Sam snorted. “I don’t need your help to look really good.”
Laughing, Tabor said, “You might want to work on your self-esteem, Lieutenant. I hate to see you so down on
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