She sighed. „Mr. Littleton has developed a drinking problem since the trial. He was arrested a few months ago for a bar fight. Mrs. Littleton came to me and asked me to help.“
„That must have been hard for her to do.“
One russet brow lifted wryly. „You have no idea. Anyway, I worked with the ASA on the case to plead Littleton down to a lesser misdemeanor with probation and participation in a sobriety program. I just guessed he was out drinking last night. Mrs. Littleton gave me the name of the bar and the cab service that brought him home. Maybe the cab driver saw something. Mr. Littleton was also out the night of King’s disappearance. He was at the bar until the cab brought him home.“ She looked away, back up at the Restons’ house. „I didn’t see the need to make him air his problems in front of the others.“
Abe put the SUV in gear. „Well, I’ve learned a few things here.“
Her face was still turned to the window. „Such as?“
„Our boy drives a white van, goes for the trite statement in black evening wear, delivered the notes sometime between one-thirty and three A.M. and…“ He waited until she met his eyes. Warily.
„And?“
„And you are a very kind person, Kristen Mayhew.“
Her eyes widened in undisguised surprise and her cheeks reddened, but she didn’t look away and the moment stretched on, Abe suddenly aware of the quickening of her breath. It matched the beating of his own heart. She swallowed hard, her whisper coming out husky. Incredibly sexy. „Thank you, Abe.“
His eyes dropped to her slightly parted lips, then lower to where her pulse fluttered at the hollow of her throat And because the air was undeniably charged and because she pulled her full lower lip between her teeth and especially because getting back to work was absolutely the last thing on his mind, Abe resolutely turned in his seat and pulled the SUV away from the curb. „You’re welcome.“
Friday, February 20,
1:00 p.m.
Zoe was seething, even the information she’d managed to pull from a technician inside the ME’s office a bitter victory. Here they sat, in front of the courthouse waiting for the queen to emerge from hiding. Dammit. „I can’t believe you lost them.“
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. „I said I was sorry every one of the ten times you said that. You think you can keep up with a cop who doesn’t want to be followed, fine. You drive next time and I’ll shove a mike down some poor bastard’s throat.“
Zoe rolled her eyes. At least she had the name of the cop from the license plates on his SUV. Detective Abe Reagan. A call into Records revealed he was career CPD with a cop family and a dead wife. He’d look good on tape. Great profile, and those linebacker’s shoulders. Mmm. Made her envious of Mayhew sitting in his passenger seat. „Well, she’s got to come back sometime.“
Scott squirmed, impatient from the waiting. „You got the names of the bodies they pulled up yesterday. Why don’t you get film of that?“
It was true. One small indiscretion after an office holiday party had given her an eternal fountain of information inside the ME’s office. It was amazing what men would do to keep their wives from learning about their flings. She figured she’d earned it. She still shuddered at the thought of being touched by hands that routinely cut up dead people.
So now she knew there were three crimes vindicated by Kristen’s vigilante and five dead bodies in the morgue and their names. She could have gotten film of the families of the children killed by the Blade Trio, but she didn’t want to miss getting film of Mayhew’s face when she popped the question of the day.
„Well?“ Scott demanded. „We going to the house with the dead little kids or not?“
„Not,“ Zoe snapped. Then she straightened in her seat as Detective Reagan’s SUV pulled up in front of the courthouse. „Showtime, Scott Let’s go.“
She waited until Kristen was out of the SUV and halfway up the courthouse steps before jumping from the car, Scott at her heels, tape rolling. She stepped into Kristen’s path and took great pleasure in the way the woman’s eyes flashed in anger.
„No comment, Richardson,“ she ground out. She moved up a step, but Zoe headed her off smoothly while making it look as graceful as a dance step. It was a gift.
„I haven’t asked the question yet, Counselor.“
„But you will.“
„I will. How about now?“ she pulled the mike close to her own mouth. „Can you confirm you now have five murders, ASA Mayhew?“
Mayhew’s eyes widened in momentary shock, then narrowed. „No comment.“ She started walking, Zoe keeping up step for step, Scott catching the whole dance on film.
„Is it true that the killer has sent you personal letters, offering the murders as a gift?“
Mayhew stopped abruptly, her mouth drawn in a tight line. „No comment.“ But the abrupt halt had said it all. She darted up the steps and Zoe let her go with one last jab, shouting her final question at Mayhew’s retreating back.
„He signed the notes to Ramey’s victims ‘Your Humble Servant.’ Is that how your letters were signed, ASA Mayhew?“
Kristen stopped and turned, now completely composed. „Perhaps you didn’t comprehend me the first three times. No comment, Miss Richardson.“
„Keep rolling,“ Zoe commanded, and Scott kept rolling until Kristen had disappeared inside the courthouse.
Scott lowered the camera. „How did you know she personally got letters?“
Zoe smiled serenely. „I’m good, Scottie. And don’t you forget it.“
Friday, February 20,
1:30 p.m.
The words on the pages in front of her blurred. She hadn’t read a single word.
It just wasn’t fair.
Kristen bit her lip. How many times had she heard that phrase in the five years since she’d joined the State’s Attorney’s Office? Too many times from too many victims, which most of the time didn’t make it any less true. How many times had she said it herself? Not recently, she had to admit. At least not when it came to her own life.
Which right now well and truly sucked.
But her life had been worse. A couple of times. Seriously worse. Even so, she wasn’t one to complain. She kept her personal life personal. So why today? Damn. She clenched her teeth, dabbing at her lip with the tissue. Whatever possessed her to say that to Reagan? They never, ever forget. Am I freaking insane? She closed her eyes, looked away from her desk as if that would erase the image of Reagan’s shocked eyes from her mind. Of the sound of his voice when he called her name. Like he knew. Or the look later, after the Restons’ house. He’d looked at her with those blue eyes, bright as the center of a gas flame.
He’d called her a nice person.
God. If he only knew. Really, truly knew.
He’d wanted more. The way his gaze had heated, the way the air had grown so charged it chased goosebumps up and down her arms, shivers up and down her back.
She’d been called a number of things, but naive generally wasn’t one of them. Frigid, yes. Ice Queen, yes. Naive, not lately. Reagan had considered kissing her. Right there in front of the Restons’ house.
She huffed an empty, mirthless chuckle. If he only knew. He’d run so fast – He’d thought about kissing her. And for one insane moment, she’d wondered how it would feel having him touch her, wondered if his lips were hard or soft, wondered how it would feel to put her arms around his strong neck and hold on. Tight.
For that one insane moment, she’d considered kissing him back. Perhaps that was what had her so shaken.
„Kristen, you have a visitor.“
She jerked around to find Lois standing in her doorway, looking concerned. Kristen drew a careful breath and glanced down at her Day Timer. Her calendar was free for another fifteen minutes.