met and fallen in love with. The man who’d existed before he’d started working child abductions.
What psychiatrist had told him that was a good idea? Instead of resolving the issues from his own kidnapping, the assignment had twisted his insides. And when his team had lost the child on that last case, he’d come unraveled.
How would he feel now to know he had a child of his own?
“Earth to Christina.” He snapped his fingers in front of her nose. “Let’s finish looking over the files from the other two cases and then get some lunch.”
“As long as I can stretch out on the bed while doing it—looking at the files, I mean.”
“Nobody told you to sit on the floor.”
“Believe it or not, the floor is more comfortable than sitting at a desk. You’re not the only one who gets tight muscles and backaches.”
He reached for one of the files and tossed it onto the bed. “Stretch away. I’ll go through the Juarez case.”
Christina fluffed up the pillows against the headboard and sank against them. She flipped open the file on her lap and started with the lab report on the victim, Olivia Dearing.
For the next half hour, the silence of the room was broken only by the rustling of pages and a few clicks as Eric typed on the laptop.
Then Eric whistled. “Hello.”
“Find something?”
“A few days before Victor Juarez was murdered he had a tattoo removed.”
“Yeah? So what?” She swept the papers from her lap and rolled onto her stomach.
He held up a photo and waved it. “There’s a picture of his left shoulder where the tattoo was removed. It’s round.”
“What are you saying? He had a tattoo of our symbol removed?”
“Maybe.” He rose from his chair and tossed the photo onto the bed. “Have a look?”
She squinted at the reddened flesh on the dead man’s skin. “It could’ve been any circular tattoo.”
“Could’ve also been that coven symbol.”
She picked up the photo, swinging it by one corner. “Anything in that report about what kind of tattoo it was?”
“Nope, but the name of the tattoo removal place is in here. I’m going to give them a call and see if they can remember what they removed from Mr. Juarez’s shoulder. Did you find anything?”
“Not yet.”
“There may be nothing in the file at all, but I’m willing to bet the connection has to be there.” He returned to the desk and shuffled through the papers in the file. “Got it. He went to a dermatologist.”
He reached for his phone, and Christina jabbed her finger in the air. “Speaker.”
The phone rang on the other end and a woman answered. “Westpoint Dermatology.”
“This is Agent Eric Brody with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m wondering if you can help me with some information about a recent patient of yours, Victor Juarez.”
The woman hissed. “The guy who was murdered last month.”
“Exactly. Did the police already talk to you?”
“Yes. They called to verify that we were the ones who removed Mr. Juarez’s tattoo.”
“Did they ask you what kind of tattoo it was?”
“They just wanted to know if it was a gang tattoo, which it wasn’t.”
Eric slid a piece of hotel stationery toward him. “Do you remember what it was or do you have a record of what it was?”
“I wouldn’t remember. I never saw it. I’m not even sure I was here when Mr. Juarez came in for his removal. When news of his murder hit the airwaves, another girl told me he’d been in here.”
“Can I talk to the doctor who removed it, or do you have the tattoo on file?”
“Oh, yeah. We always keep a before and after picture. I can look it up for you, but not right this minute, and I’ll also need some verification from you that you’re really from the FBI.”
“Understood. I’ll give you the number for the FBI, my ID number and also my email address so you can email me the picture of the tattoo when you get it.”
“That’ll work.”
Eric rattled off the information and ended the call.
What psychiatrist had told him that was a good idea? Instead of resolving the issues from his own kidnapping, the assignment had twisted his insides. And when his team had lost the child on that last case, he’d come unraveled.
How would he feel now to know he had a child of his own?
“Earth to Christina.” He snapped his fingers in front of her nose. “Let’s finish looking over the files from the other two cases and then get some lunch.”
“As long as I can stretch out on the bed while doing it—looking at the files, I mean.”
“Nobody told you to sit on the floor.”
“Believe it or not, the floor is more comfortable than sitting at a desk. You’re not the only one who gets tight muscles and backaches.”
He reached for one of the files and tossed it onto the bed. “Stretch away. I’ll go through the Juarez case.”
Christina fluffed up the pillows against the headboard and sank against them. She flipped open the file on her lap and started with the lab report on the victim, Olivia Dearing.
For the next half hour, the silence of the room was broken only by the rustling of pages and a few clicks as Eric typed on the laptop.
Then Eric whistled. “Hello.”
“Find something?”
“A few days before Victor Juarez was murdered he had a tattoo removed.”
“Yeah? So what?” She swept the papers from her lap and rolled onto her stomach.
He held up a photo and waved it. “There’s a picture of his left shoulder where the tattoo was removed. It’s round.”
“What are you saying? He had a tattoo of our symbol removed?”
“Maybe.” He rose from his chair and tossed the photo onto the bed. “Have a look?”
She squinted at the reddened flesh on the dead man’s skin. “It could’ve been any circular tattoo.”
“Could’ve also been that coven symbol.”
She picked up the photo, swinging it by one corner. “Anything in that report about what kind of tattoo it was?”
“Nope, but the name of the tattoo removal place is in here. I’m going to give them a call and see if they can remember what they removed from Mr. Juarez’s shoulder. Did you find anything?”
“Not yet.”
“There may be nothing in the file at all, but I’m willing to bet the connection has to be there.” He returned to the desk and shuffled through the papers in the file. “Got it. He went to a dermatologist.”
He reached for his phone, and Christina jabbed her finger in the air. “Speaker.”
The phone rang on the other end and a woman answered. “Westpoint Dermatology.”
“This is Agent Eric Brody with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m wondering if you can help me with some information about a recent patient of yours, Victor Juarez.”
The woman hissed. “The guy who was murdered last month.”
“Exactly. Did the police already talk to you?”
“Yes. They called to verify that we were the ones who removed Mr. Juarez’s tattoo.”
“Did they ask you what kind of tattoo it was?”
“They just wanted to know if it was a gang tattoo, which it wasn’t.”
Eric slid a piece of hotel stationery toward him. “Do you remember what it was or do you have a record of what it was?”
“I wouldn’t remember. I never saw it. I’m not even sure I was here when Mr. Juarez came in for his removal. When news of his murder hit the airwaves, another girl told me he’d been in here.”
“Can I talk to the doctor who removed it, or do you have the tattoo on file?”
“Oh, yeah. We always keep a before and after picture. I can look it up for you, but not right this minute, and I’ll also need some verification from you that you’re really from the FBI.”
“Understood. I’ll give you the number for the FBI, my ID number and also my email address so you can email me the picture of the tattoo when you get it.”
“That’ll work.”
Eric rattled off the information and ended the call.
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