trying to get rid of was back now—Whitney Bensen in vivid detail.
Elaina knelt down and pointed at something on the ground. She waved over a ranger who was standing nearby and exchanged words with him.
“She the fed?” Ketchem asked.
“Yeah.”
He grunted something that could have meant anything from “She’s hot” to “She looks like a pain in the ass.”
Elaina stood up, and Cinco watched her talk to the ranger, then the sheriff. He had to admire her, just wading into the fray like that. She didn’t act intimidated, even though he would’ve thought she would be. The only other woman around lay naked in that ditch, gutted with a hunting knife.
The smell alone had to be unbearable.
“This guy’s a twisted fuck.” Ketchem shook his head and turned his back on the scene. He looked pretty gray, and Cinco decided he probably
had
booted up his breakfast.
A second crime-scene van pulled up, and two men got out. They opened the back doors, and Cinco watched as they zipped themselves into some white coveralls. One of them took a stretcher from the back and the other grabbed a body bag. A white sedan pulled up beside it. Frank Cisernos. The ME wore khaki pants, a blue golf shirt, and a grim expression. Whatever plans he’d had for his Sunday afternoon had just been canceled. They’d do the autopsy today. Soon, most likely, before the body got any worse.
Cinco wiped his brow with the back of his arm. He gazed up at the sun. Not noon yet, but it was a hundred degrees, at least.
“Fuckin’ heat’s not helping,” Ketchem said.
“Yeah.” Cinco glanced over at Elaina, who had to have a strong stomach to be standing there just a few feet from the body.
He won’t stop.
She’d told him that yesterday as they’d sat in that stuffy conference room pulling together the suspect list.
He’ll either get caught or get killed, but he won’t stop.
Cinco gazed up at the white-hot sun again. A pair of buzzards circled overhead, all the time in the world, just waiting for another turn. Meanwhile, he was about to spend the next three hours picking through grass and muck, looking for clues, while the techs spooned that poor girl out of the ditch. Cinco didn’t want to be here again. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week. He wanted to nail this guy.
He watched Elaina. She met his gaze briefly, and he knew she felt the same way.
“Come on,” he told Ketchem. “Let’s do something useful.”
Elaina sat in the Taurus and cursed the GPS. “Invalid Address,” it told her for the third time. She took a deep breath and keyed in the letters again.
The passenger door jerked open.
“God, don’t
do
that!”
Troy slid into the car and pulled the door shut. “Do what?”
She shot him a glare and turned her attention back to the navigation system. “I can’t talk right now,” she told him. “I’m on my way out.”
“Field trip to the mainland?”
She glanced down at the GPS and muttered another curse.
“You don’t need that thing,” he said. “You got me.”
Elaina rested her head back against the seat and sighed. She gazed through the windshield at the inn where she’d spent the past two nights not getting any sleep. Her energy was completely sapped. She felt irritable. It was after eight, but she’d skipped dinner because the mere thought of food repelled her.
“Rough day?”
His voice was quiet, and for some reason her eyes started to sting.
Shit.
She cleared her throat. “You can’t ride in my car. It’s against regulations.”
“We can take mine.”
“Forget it. I’m not pulling up to this woman’s house in a Ferrari.”
“I brought the pickup.”
She glanced at the rearview mirror and saw his black F-150 parked in the row behind them. Her resistance flagged.
She turned to look at him. “Why are you helping me?”
“Damned if I know.”
“If you quote me in your book—”
“I won’t.”
“—I’ll be forced to hurt you.”
His eyes sparked at the threat.
Elaina
Elaina knelt down and pointed at something on the ground. She waved over a ranger who was standing nearby and exchanged words with him.
“She the fed?” Ketchem asked.
“Yeah.”
He grunted something that could have meant anything from “She’s hot” to “She looks like a pain in the ass.”
Elaina stood up, and Cinco watched her talk to the ranger, then the sheriff. He had to admire her, just wading into the fray like that. She didn’t act intimidated, even though he would’ve thought she would be. The only other woman around lay naked in that ditch, gutted with a hunting knife.
The smell alone had to be unbearable.
“This guy’s a twisted fuck.” Ketchem shook his head and turned his back on the scene. He looked pretty gray, and Cinco decided he probably
had
booted up his breakfast.
A second crime-scene van pulled up, and two men got out. They opened the back doors, and Cinco watched as they zipped themselves into some white coveralls. One of them took a stretcher from the back and the other grabbed a body bag. A white sedan pulled up beside it. Frank Cisernos. The ME wore khaki pants, a blue golf shirt, and a grim expression. Whatever plans he’d had for his Sunday afternoon had just been canceled. They’d do the autopsy today. Soon, most likely, before the body got any worse.
Cinco wiped his brow with the back of his arm. He gazed up at the sun. Not noon yet, but it was a hundred degrees, at least.
“Fuckin’ heat’s not helping,” Ketchem said.
“Yeah.” Cinco glanced over at Elaina, who had to have a strong stomach to be standing there just a few feet from the body.
He won’t stop.
She’d told him that yesterday as they’d sat in that stuffy conference room pulling together the suspect list.
He’ll either get caught or get killed, but he won’t stop.
Cinco gazed up at the white-hot sun again. A pair of buzzards circled overhead, all the time in the world, just waiting for another turn. Meanwhile, he was about to spend the next three hours picking through grass and muck, looking for clues, while the techs spooned that poor girl out of the ditch. Cinco didn’t want to be here again. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week. He wanted to nail this guy.
He watched Elaina. She met his gaze briefly, and he knew she felt the same way.
“Come on,” he told Ketchem. “Let’s do something useful.”
Elaina sat in the Taurus and cursed the GPS. “Invalid Address,” it told her for the third time. She took a deep breath and keyed in the letters again.
The passenger door jerked open.
“God, don’t
do
that!”
Troy slid into the car and pulled the door shut. “Do what?”
She shot him a glare and turned her attention back to the navigation system. “I can’t talk right now,” she told him. “I’m on my way out.”
“Field trip to the mainland?”
She glanced down at the GPS and muttered another curse.
“You don’t need that thing,” he said. “You got me.”
Elaina rested her head back against the seat and sighed. She gazed through the windshield at the inn where she’d spent the past two nights not getting any sleep. Her energy was completely sapped. She felt irritable. It was after eight, but she’d skipped dinner because the mere thought of food repelled her.
“Rough day?”
His voice was quiet, and for some reason her eyes started to sting.
Shit.
She cleared her throat. “You can’t ride in my car. It’s against regulations.”
“We can take mine.”
“Forget it. I’m not pulling up to this woman’s house in a Ferrari.”
“I brought the pickup.”
She glanced at the rearview mirror and saw his black F-150 parked in the row behind them. Her resistance flagged.
She turned to look at him. “Why are you helping me?”
“Damned if I know.”
“If you quote me in your book—”
“I won’t.”
“—I’ll be forced to hurt you.”
His eyes sparked at the threat.
Elaina
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