decay. Jane Doe number two, now a skeleton, her face totally missing. And the third and fourth girls located by the cadaver dogs? It was still too early to see their faces. Dr. Williams had to take her time unearthing the bodies so they didn’t miss any possible leads. She couldn’t even determine a time of death yet . . . and might not be able to. Ever. She’d just have to wait and see what she located.
Which meant Connor had to wait, too. At least until tomorrow. Maybe longer.
He wasn’t good at waiting, and after spending time with Becca today, he wasn’t good with being alone, either. He hated to admit it, but that was his real reason for coming here.
He parked his truck and looked up to see her lights filtering through blinds. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Good because she was awake and he really wanted to talk to her. Bad because of the potential consequences of violating every kind of protocol by sharing information with her before Vance cleared her.
Too dang bad. Connor needed her help on the investigation, and if this was what he had to do to find closure for these girls, then he would.
He slammed his truck door and crossed the lot to the main stairway leading to her second floor apartment. He’d barely planted a foot on the first step when her door suddenly opened. She was wearing serviceable running shorts and an Under Armor T-shirt. Her outfit should have made her look like a tomboy, but the shirt hugged her curves and the shorts gave him a nice view of her long legs. She carried a small backpack, and her face glistened with sweat, as if she’d already been running.
“Going for a run?” he asked.
She dropped to the ground, her hand going to an ankle holster, before meeting his gaze. “You scared me.”
“Sorry about that.”
“For your information—though I’m not sure why you need to know—I just came back from a run.”
“Kind of dangerous to go running alone at this time of night, isn’t it?”
“My neighborhood is safe.” She patted her ankle. “And as you can see, I don’t go out unprotected.” She stood and jogged down the stairs, stopping a few risers above him
He looked up at her. This close, he could see how tightly the fabric clung to her curves, firing his imagination. His heart gave a kick, and he regretted coming here. He should have known, in his exhausted state, that she would get to him even more.
He’d crack a few jokes then get out of there. “Guess I’m destined to find you all hot and sweaty from now on.”
She eyed him. “It’s late, Connor, and I’m not doing this whole witty banter thing with you.” She crossed her arms. “Either tell me why you’re here or take off.”
“Crabby much?”
“Goodnight, Connor.” She moved to push past him.
He stepped in front of her. “I was hoping you’d give me a rundown on Van Gogh.”
“It’s late. Read the case files.” She dug her keys from her pack and tried to maneuver around him.
“I plan to.” He widened his stance to make a solid wall in front of her. “But I thought we could get going on the investigation faster if you gave me a quick summary of what transpired in the nineties.”
Her eyes narrowed into tense little slits. “You’re really something, you know that? Expecting me to help you after your boss tossed me off the crime scene.”
“Oh, that? That was just Vance. He’s kind of a control freak, the same as Sulyard is.”
“I’d have to have been deaf and blind not to figure that out.” She eyed him. “But what I’m talking about is the fact that not a word came out of your or Sam’s mouth in our defense. Not a single word.”
“Hey, wait . . . what? You’re mad about that?”
She crossed her arms. “You’re darn right I am.”
“I’m sorry, Bex. Honest. But if I’d spoken up, it would have made things worse. Vance would have zoned in on you even more.”
“Right.”
“Think about it. If you questioned or contradicted Sulyard in
Which meant Connor had to wait, too. At least until tomorrow. Maybe longer.
He wasn’t good at waiting, and after spending time with Becca today, he wasn’t good with being alone, either. He hated to admit it, but that was his real reason for coming here.
He parked his truck and looked up to see her lights filtering through blinds. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Good because she was awake and he really wanted to talk to her. Bad because of the potential consequences of violating every kind of protocol by sharing information with her before Vance cleared her.
Too dang bad. Connor needed her help on the investigation, and if this was what he had to do to find closure for these girls, then he would.
He slammed his truck door and crossed the lot to the main stairway leading to her second floor apartment. He’d barely planted a foot on the first step when her door suddenly opened. She was wearing serviceable running shorts and an Under Armor T-shirt. Her outfit should have made her look like a tomboy, but the shirt hugged her curves and the shorts gave him a nice view of her long legs. She carried a small backpack, and her face glistened with sweat, as if she’d already been running.
“Going for a run?” he asked.
She dropped to the ground, her hand going to an ankle holster, before meeting his gaze. “You scared me.”
“Sorry about that.”
“For your information—though I’m not sure why you need to know—I just came back from a run.”
“Kind of dangerous to go running alone at this time of night, isn’t it?”
“My neighborhood is safe.” She patted her ankle. “And as you can see, I don’t go out unprotected.” She stood and jogged down the stairs, stopping a few risers above him
He looked up at her. This close, he could see how tightly the fabric clung to her curves, firing his imagination. His heart gave a kick, and he regretted coming here. He should have known, in his exhausted state, that she would get to him even more.
He’d crack a few jokes then get out of there. “Guess I’m destined to find you all hot and sweaty from now on.”
She eyed him. “It’s late, Connor, and I’m not doing this whole witty banter thing with you.” She crossed her arms. “Either tell me why you’re here or take off.”
“Crabby much?”
“Goodnight, Connor.” She moved to push past him.
He stepped in front of her. “I was hoping you’d give me a rundown on Van Gogh.”
“It’s late. Read the case files.” She dug her keys from her pack and tried to maneuver around him.
“I plan to.” He widened his stance to make a solid wall in front of her. “But I thought we could get going on the investigation faster if you gave me a quick summary of what transpired in the nineties.”
Her eyes narrowed into tense little slits. “You’re really something, you know that? Expecting me to help you after your boss tossed me off the crime scene.”
“Oh, that? That was just Vance. He’s kind of a control freak, the same as Sulyard is.”
“I’d have to have been deaf and blind not to figure that out.” She eyed him. “But what I’m talking about is the fact that not a word came out of your or Sam’s mouth in our defense. Not a single word.”
“Hey, wait . . . what? You’re mad about that?”
She crossed her arms. “You’re darn right I am.”
“I’m sorry, Bex. Honest. But if I’d spoken up, it would have made things worse. Vance would have zoned in on you even more.”
“Right.”
“Think about it. If you questioned or contradicted Sulyard in
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