Illusions of Death by Lauren Linwood Page A

person that some public defender would trip up.”
    “A true blue Boy Scout to the end. Maybe that could be your campaign slogan. Has a ring to it. Of course, nothing will ever beat I Like Ike or Tippecanoe and Tyler, Too .”
    Logan ignored the comment. “The judge sounded the lunch horn as I was leaving. I guess you’ll be stuck here till mid-afternoon. Want to grab a bite during the recess?”
    Brad shook his head. “I got a call a few minutes ago to pick up my car. I dropped it off this morning and had new tires put on. I’ll grab a sandwich and the car. Then return here and testify. I’ll see you back at the house.”
    Logan stepped out into a sweet spring day. Not a cloud in the sky and only a slight breeze. He decided to see if Rick Mabry was available. They’d graduated from the same patrol class in Atlanta. Both gravitated back to their hometowns. Rick made lieutenant a few months ago and ran a squad room not two blocks from the county courthouse.
    He dialed the number. “Hey, Rick, it’s Logan. I wrapped up testifying and wanted to see if you were free for lunch.”
    “Perfect timing. Ensenada okay? Order me the daily. I’m leaving now.”
    “Will do. See you in five.”
    Logan cut around the corner and entered the restaurant. He grabbed a booth and ordered two iced teas and two daily specials. By the time the chips and salsa arrived, Rick slid in across from him.
    “How’s Fountain Valley these days?”
    Rick shoveled a few chips in. “Busy morning. Had to deal with an EEOC discrimination charge, so I spent a couple hours in HR. I think it’s all settled. How about you?”
    Logan grinned. “Got the number of signatures I needed and paid my filing fee. I’m officially a candidate in the May election. You might be sitting with the next chief of police in the Springs.”
    Rick let out a low whistle. “That’s awesome. You have what it takes to lead a department, Logan. You start campaigning yet?”
    “No.” He laughed. “I know I’ll need signs. I moved enough of them around twenty years ago. Might as well give other enterprising teens the same opportunity.”
    Rick thought about it. “Set up some informational meetings. You know, your ideas on what you’d change. And a website is a must. Maybe some flyers. And tweet. A lot.”
    “I met an author recently. I know she has a website. Maybe I can pick her brain about how to engage voters through social media.”
    His friend’s eyes gleamed. “A she? Who’s this author? And why would she take up with a sorry SOB like you?”
    “It’s Karlyn Campbell, the—”
    “—mystery writer. No way! She’s amazing. Even keeps me guessing till the end.” He eyed Logan. “And those back cover photos? Scalding hot, bro. Those brilliant green eyes scream fuck me, baby.” Rick studied him. “So you know her well enough to pick her brain? You’ve been holding out on me, Warner.”
    Logan shrugged. “We’ve had dinner a couple of times.”
    Rick leaned across the table and punched him on the shoulder. “Dinners. Yeah.”
    The server arrived with their platters, preventing Logan from answering. His friend doused the entire meal with salsa while Logan busied himself buttering a corn tortilla and rolling it up.
    The men ate in silence a few moments, savoring the best Mexican food in the area.
    “I think it’s good you’re having dinner with a lady.”
    Logan raised his eyebrows.
    “Seriously. It’s been a long time between dates. You need to get out more. Hell, I can’t wait to tell Hildy you’ve been seeing Karlyn Campbell.”
    Before Logan could reply, Rick’s phone buzzed. He busied himself with the last bites of his meal while Rick took the call.
    “God, no. Not here. Who did? Okay. Be there in ten. Don’t let him talk to anyone but Brady and Malone. I’ll check the crime scene first and then come back to see how the interview went.” Rick ended the call and sat there, an odd look on his face.
    “Bad news?”
    His friend grimaced.