Thursday, November 30, 6:45 P.M.
Reed hung up the phone. "Found him."
Both Mia and Aidan quickly hung up. "Where?" Mia demanded.
"The Willow Inn in Atlantic City. Their computer shows Devin White checked in on June first and checked out June third. Paid cash. Guy at the desk didn't remember him."
"We don't know if it was the real Devin or Math Boy," Mia said. "Now we know where he stayed, but we still don't know which casino he went to. So many people go through the casinos. It's hard to think anybody would remember a college kid."
"But all the casinos have cameras," Reed said. "We know the days he was there. We should be able to find him on video. At least to know if it's Devin White or…" He winced a little. "Or Math Boy. Can't we find a different pet name for him?"
"It works for now." She frowned. "There are dozen casinos. Where do we start?"
"You familiar with Atlantic City?" Aidan asked.
"Never been there," Reed answered and Mia shook her head as well.
"Tess and I went to the Jersey shore on our honeymoon just a few weeks ago. One of the days we drove to Atlantic City and did some of the casinos, so it's still fresh in my mind." Aidan brought a map to their desks and the three of them stood, studying it. "Willow Inn is down here, close to the Silver Casino. Harrah's and Trump's Marina are way up here and all the other big casinos are way over here, on the beach."
"He probably went to the Silver Casino, at least once or twice since it was close." Mia said.
"And it's one of the smaller casinos, so it should be easier for them to locate him."
Reed looked at the grainy picture. "The university has a better photo of the real Devin. We could ask Atlantic City PD to search tonight with this, or wait until tomorrow morning."
"Four women are dead," Mia said. "I don't think we can afford to wait."
"I agree," Aidan said. "Besides, if they don't find him before morning, then we give them a better picture and ask them to start again."
"I'll send pictures of White and Math Boy to Atlantic City PD. Maybe somebody filed a missing person on the real Devin. Thanks for the help, Aidan. You guys go on home."
Aidan quickly complied, waving good-bye on his way out. But Reed remained, watching her. "You're coming home with me, Mia."
She looked up, eyes narrowed. "That was a dirty stunt to pull, Solliday."
He inclined his head, his own dander up. "What? That I want to keep you alive?"
She turned to her computer, her lips a thin line. "You could have asked me first."
He backed off. "Yeah. And I probably should have. I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Well, fine. Go home, Solliday. I'll meet you later. After Beth goes to sleep."
"You could come for dinner."
Her eyes were locked on her computer screen. "I promised Abe I"d have dinner with them. Besides, you need time with your daughter. Go home. I'll see you later."
He leaned against her desk, closer than was wise, but dammit, he could still feel her trembling as he'd held her. She thought she was superwoman. But she was a hell of a lot more human than she wanted to admit. "Mia, I was there the other night, remember? I saw how close you came to not having a head anymore. Doesn't that scare you?"
She looked up, eyes flat. "Yes. But that's my job and my life. I'm not going to run every time a bad guy waves a gun in my face. If I did, I'd be useless to anyone."
"If you're dead, you're useless to everyone." he shot back.
"I said I'd meet you later." Her eyes closed. "I promise. Now go home to your kid."
Mia waited until he was gone, then called the Atlantic City police department, explained what she needed, answered all the questions she could. They said they'd coordinate a search with the management of the Silver Casino. She came back from faxing the photos to find Roger Burnette standing at her desk.
He was not pleased. He may have been a little drunk. His eyes were filled with pain and a reckless wrath that made her steps slow. Instinctively she put the photos on the first desk she passed so that when she approached him, it was with empty hands. No sense in giving a grief-ravaged parent the identity of their child's killer. Especially when the parent was a cop. "Sergeant Burnette. Can I help you?"
"You can tell me you know who murdered my daughter."
"We believe we do, sir. But we don't have a legitimate identification or location."
He took rapid breaths. "In other words, you know jack shit."
"Sergeant." Carefully she came closer. "Let me call someone to take you home."
"Dammit, I don't need anybody to take me home. I need you tell me you know who killed my Caitlin." In a rage he knocked the stack of file folders from her desk. Papers flew all over the floor. "You sit here and read all damn day. Why aren't you out there looking?" He grabbed her then, gripping her shoulders like a vice and for the second time in an hour pain speared her. She'd been wrong; Burnette was very drunk. "You're no cop," he hissed. "Your father was a cop. He would have been ashamed of you."
She shoved his arms away. "Sergeant. Sit down."
He towered over her, fists clenched. "I'm burying my daughter tomorrow. Does that mean anything to you?"
She stood her ground even though she had to crane her neck to look up at him. "It means a great deal to me, Sergeant. We're close, but we don't have him yet. I'm sorry."
"Roger." Spinnelli was out of his office and between them faster than Mia had ever seen him move. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
Burnette stepped back. "Getting an update on my daughter's case. Not that there's anything to update," he added in disgust.
"Detective Mitchell has been working this case nearly nonstop since Monday."
"Then she's not very good at her job, is she?" he sneered.
"Roger, you're outta line," Spinnelli barked.
Burnette turned on his heel, swatting at the air. "Go to hell, all of you."
Spinnelli searched her face. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay, but he's drunk," Mia murmured. "Make sure he doesn't drive himself home."
"Mia, go home." He winced. "Not home. To Reed's. With whatever her name was."
"Lauren." She pointed to Burnette who'd stopped at the bullpen doorway, his shoulders hunched. "Go help him, Marc. I'll see you tomorrow."
Thursday, November 30, 8:05 p.m.
"Dinner was great, Kristen." Mia smiled down at Kara Reagan's dirty little face as she struggled to take off a layer of spaghetti sauce without taking off a layer of the child's fair skin. "You enjoyed it, too, didn't you, Sweetpea?"
Kara bounced on Mia's lap, a sly look in her eyes. "Ice cream. Pleeease?"
Mia laughed. She loved this little girl like she was her own. Playfully she tugged one of Kara's red curls. "You have to ask Mommy about that."
"Mommy said no," Abe said. His color was better, but his face was still too thin. "But Daddy and Kara are hoping Aunt Mia being here will change Mommy's mind."
Kristen's sigh was dramatic. "Two against one. They gang up on me like this every night. I made up the spare room, Mia. You'll stay here tonight."
Kara bounced. "Stay," she demanded. She smacked a wet kiss on Mia's cheek.
Kristen lifted the baby from Mia's lap. "Bath time, baby. Then bed. Say good night to Aunt Mia." Kara kissed her other cheek noisily, then Kristen carried her off, the two singing some silly bath-time song, Kara delivering the words with a sweet lisp.
"You have sauce on your cheeks,"' Abe said wryly and Mia scrubbed it off.
"It was worth it." She smiled wistfully after them, grateful the innocent child would never have to wonder if her parents loved her. "I don't see how Kristen resists her."
"She's really a marshmallow. Don't let the tough act fool you." Abe sat back in his chair. "You're not staying here tonight, are you?"
"No, but don't tell Kristen until after I'm gone. She threatened to tie me down."
"Please tell me you're not going home."
Mia rolled her eyes. "Solliday has a duplex. I'm going to use the other side. I get my own room, my own kitchen, my own private entrance."
Abe's lips twitched. "Your own tunnel to the other side for midnight rendezvous?"
Mia sucked in a cheek. Abe was laughing now and she knew Aidan had spilled the beans about the office embrace. "Your brother has a big mouth. It was nothing."
"Aidan's always had a big mouth," Abe chuckled. "You should see your face. It's redder than Kara's covered in spaghetti sauce."
She threw a napkin at him. "And to think I've missed you."
"I'll be back soon enough. Back to curry and sushi and vegetarian delights."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Solliday lets me choose."
"Choose what?" he asked with a grin and she felt her face flame even hotter. He leaned back, his face sobering. "You'll let me know if he… if you need help."
"What? If he's mean to me, you'll beat him up?"
"Or something."
He was serious and Mia was touched. "Other than being a little overbearing, he's a gentleman. But he does piss me off. Trying to outmaneuver me."
"Sounds like he's succeeded." He shrugged when she scowled. "You aren't in your apartment right now. I see that as a plus. Maybe he can maneuver you into moving."
Mia stared at him. "You, too? Abe, it's my place. You wouldn't sell this place. If I moved every time I made some bad guy mad, I'd be a nomad in a fucking tent."
"This is bigger than one bad guy. What is Spinnelli doing to curb Carmichael?"
"What can he do? She didn't say that was my address. She said shots were fired and that I was the target. She leaves it up to the reader to infer. She broke no laws."
"Mia, how did Carmichael know where to find Getts and DuPree?"
"She said one of her sources had told her."
"What if she's the source?"
"You mean, what if she was there that night you got shot?" He nodded and she considered the possibility. "She could have followed them then. But that would mean she knew where they were the whole time and said nothing."
"It would mean she waited until the day you came back to share the information."
Mia could hear her temper pop. "Dammit. She wanted the story of me taking them down and I gave her half of what she wanted when I took DuPree."
"And it was a front-page story when you did. Don't trust her, Mia."
"Shit." She stood on shaky legs. "This day has sucked all the way around."
"Stay a little longer. You look tired."
She blinked hard. "I am tired. But I've got to get through Burnette's files. We don't have…" She hesitated, then shrugged and used Burnette's own words. "We don't have jack shit in terms of physical evidence. We've got to find the link."
"But if you don't know his real name, then what are you looking for?" he asked.
She rubbed her aching forehead. "You're trying to trick me with logic," she grumbled. "I'll get some sleep, then hit the files." She headed for the front door.
He followed, moving slowly but steadily. "Bring me some of them. I can help."
She shrugged into her coat, wincing at her shoulder. She'd be lucky if Burnette hadn't left a bruise. "You're on disability, pal."
"I can sit and read. I'm going nuts here all day." He tilted his head. "Pleeease?"
She laughed. "Now I know where Kara gets it. If Spinnelli approves it, consider yourself hired. I'll call tomorrow. Thank Kristen for dinner and kiss Kara for me."
As she pulled away from his house, she could see him standing in the window, watching, just as Dana had watched her drive away the night before. Once again, she felt the unwelcome tug of jealousy mixed with resentment. But she didn't resent Abe and Dana. Not really. It was the closeness they had with their new families. This she could admit to herself. It was coming home to a noisy house, with people who loved you no matter what. It was not having to drive away alone.
And even though the location had changed, she'd still be alone tonight. She'd be staying in Lauren's house, while Reed's family gathered on the other side. She thought of her own family. Kelsey in jail. Her mother… after the funeral they hadn't spoken. Annabelle had ordered her not to return, which wasn't hard to obey. She thought of the mystery blonde, wondered who she was and if she had a family. If she liked her mother.
She still hadn't run those license numbers. When everything died down, she would. When everything dies down. When everything settles. They weie the words she used to put off things. To put off buying new furniture, painting her bedroom. To put off moving in with Guy last year when he'd asked. Marrying him. When everything settles down…
And when will that be, Mia? How old will you be when that happens?
Out of sorts, she pushed the thoughts from her mind. She had more important things to worry about now. She was going to her apartment to pack a bag, so she had to have her mind clear, her attention sharp in case nasty people with guns lurked about. She'd think about all the angst later. She laughed aloud, the sound brittle and bitter to her ears. When everything settles down.
Thursday, November 30, 8:15 p.m.
"Good dinner, Lauren," Reed said, helping her clear the dishes from the table.
Lauren looked at him shrewdly. "I'm surprised to hear that. You looked like you were punishing the food the whole time."
More like he'd been punishing himself. He'd completely mishandled that whole thing with Mia. "Sorry. I have some things on my mind."
"I guess you do." She squeezed his arm and took the plates to the sink.
"Whoa!" He stopped Beth who was leaving the room without a word. "Where do you think you're going?"
Beth gave him the look. "Upstairs," she said, like he was mentally infirm.
She'd been silent through dinner, a petulant scowl on her face. Once again she'd asked to go to this sleepover on the weekend. Once again he'd said no. It was getting old. "Get back here and help your aunt. I just don't know what's gotten into you, Beth."
Setting her teeth, she started tossing silverware onto plates with a clatter. "Beth!"
She looked up and he was shocked to see tears in her eyes. "What?" she said through her teeth.
"Beth, honey, what's wrong?"
Viciously she wiped crumbs from the table. "Nothing you'd understand." Throwing the crumbs at the trash can, she ran from the room, leaving Reed staring, dumbfounded.
"What was that?" he asked.
Lauren took the broom and swept around the base of the trash can, where most of the crumbs had fallen. "Something's been bothering her this week. Maybe it's a boy."
Reed closed his eyes and shuddered. "She's fourteen, Lauren. Don't say that."
"She's fourteen, Reed. Get used to it."
"I'll go talk to her."
"Give her time to pull herself together." She leaned on the broom and gave him an appraising stare. "You haven't been with it the last few days, either. Need to talk?"
Reed looked over at her. Of all their siblings, he and Lauren were the closest. He loved the others, but he and Lauren had always shared a bond. "I don't know."
She smiled. "When you decide, you know where I live."
"Ahh, that." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I kind of volunteered your house. For a worthy cause."
She nodded, eyes narrowing. "You volunteered my house. Why?"
"Mitchell needs a place to stay for a few days. I offered the other side of the duplex. I figured you wouldn't mind staying in the spare room since most of your stuff is here."
She considered this in silence for a moment. "Why can't she just share with me?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. He'd thought of that after he'd made the offer to Mia, then pushed the thought aside. He wanted her alone. He wanted her naked. He wanted to hear her cry out when she came. Without worrying about his sister overhearing or leaving his daughter alone. Understanding filled Lauren's eyes and heat filled Reed's cheeks.
"You're finally taking my advice."
"No, I'm not."
"But-"
"Lauren, it's none of your business, but now that you know, it's temporary. Just like the partnership."
Her eyes shadowed. "Do you know what you're doing, Reed?"
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I don't mean technique-wise. I assume you have that down pretty well."
"Lauren," he warned, but she ignored him.
"I meant this… thing. With Mia. Just remember that slinking around in secret doesn't make it less important. Telling yourself it's temporary, doesn't make it true. And even though she seems like a tough cookie, the woman's got feelings."
He knew that. "I don't want to hurt her."
"If wishes were horses." She whisked the crumbs in the trash. "I'll get her room ready." Her expression pained, she ran her finger down his shirt, tracing the chain he wore beneath it. "You took it off last night."
"You were in my room?"
"Looking for some aspirin. It was on your night table in plain sight. Be careful, Reed. No woman wants to live in another woman's shadow. Even temporarily."
He didn't know what to say and the ringing of his cell phone saved him from saying anything. He didn't recognize the number. "Solliday."
Lauren shook her head and with a backward look, left to prepare Mia's room.
"This is Abe Reagan. Mia's partner."
Reed's guard went up. "Nice to meet you. Just curious, how did you get my cell?"
"Got it from Aidan who got it from Jack. Mia just left here. She said she was staying at your place, but I know she's stopping by her apartment first. If I could, I'd go cover her."
"I'll go. Thanks for the heads-up." Reed pocketed his cell phone. But first, he'd talk to Beth. He took the stairs two at a time, then knocked on her door. Loud music played inside and he couldn't hear her answer. "Beth? I need to talk to you."
"Go away."
He jiggled the door, found it locked. "I need to talk to you. Open the door. Now."
After about a minute, the door opened and she stood there staring up at him, belligerence in her dark eyes, still red and puffing from crying. "What?"
Gently he reached out to push some wet hair from her cheek. She flinched and pulled away, which hurt him more than her words had. "Beth. Please tell me what's wrong. I can't understand if I don't know."
"It's nothing. I'm just tired."
Helpless and frustrated, he frowned. "Are you sick? Do we need to see a doctor?"
Her smile was bitter and far too adult. "Are you asking me if I need a shrink? Don't think so, Dad. You're the one who's always saying what a crock they are."
He winced, her aim true. "I have said that. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe there are lots of things I should do differently. I can't know unless you talk to me, baby."
Her eyes flashed. "I'm not a baby." Then her eyes went sad, but he could see the slyness beneath. "You could let me go to the sleepover. That would make me happier."
He stepped back, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up. This wasn't his child. This manipulating stranger belonged to somebody else. "No. I said you were on restriction and nothing you've said makes me change my mind. In fact, just the opposite. I don't know what's so important about this sleepover, but no, you cannot go. Starting now, I don't want you going over to Jenny's anymore."
Her nostrils flared, her breath deliberate. "You're blaming her. She said you would." She stepped back, her hand on the door. "Are you finished ruining my life?"
He shook his head, having no words. "Beth. I have to go out for a few minutes. We'll finish this when I come back."
"Don't bother," she said coldly. "I'll be asleep when you come back." Then she closed the door in his face.
He shoved his hand through his hair, cupping the back of his head as if to hold it in place. What was wrong with his child? Was it just a temper tantrum? Or could it be more? Something… worse? But he couldn't believe that. Beth was a smart girl. A good kid. She was only fourteen. But he knew what fourteen-year-olds could get involved in, from personal experience. But this was Beth. She wasn't the kid of an alcoholic drug-addict who cared more for her next fix then feeding her son.
Beth was lucky. She has me. He sighed. And right now, she hates me. He didn't know what to do. He felt like breaking down her door, but knew that wouldn't solve a thing. He needed help. He'd call her guidance counselor first thing in the morning.
Now he had to see a woman who would probably make him feel as welcome as his daughter just had. "You should just give it up, Solliday," he muttered as he walked down the stairs and grabbed his coat. He passed Lauren coming across the front yard as he walked out. "I have to go out," he snapped. "Beth's in her room."
"Did you talk to her?" Lauren asked, a canvas book bag over one shoulder.
"For all the good it did. I'm calling her school counselor tomorrow."
"That's a good idea."
"I'll be back later." He stalked toward the SUV, churlish and embarrassed for it.
"Reed?"
He stopped. Didn't turn around. "What?"
"Take off the chain before you get there."
Without looking back he climbed in the SUV, pulled out of the driveway and around the block. Then he slowed down and pulled the chain from around his neck, stared at the ring in his palm, then carefully laid it in the console next to his seat. "Shit."
Thursday, November 30, 8:45 p.m.
There she was. He came to his feet in the alley across the street, slinging his backpack onto his back. It paid to travel light. If he had to run, he had everything he needed. The car he"d taken was parked a block away, close enough to get to once he did the deed. Then Melvin Getts would be on the news. Not me.
Mitchell was getting out of her car across the street, a briefcase on one shoulder. She stood for a moment, alert, scanning the area, but he was tucked out of her sight in the shadows. She was a perfect target, her head in just the right position. His hand steady, he pointed the gun. From this distance, he couldn't miss. He aimed-
An SUV pulled up beside her, blocking his shot. Dammit. Lieutenant Solliday.
Solliday lowered his window and they were talking, but not loudly enough for him to hear what they were saying. Solliday sat back, scanning the street as she had done.
Shit. She was going up to her apartment. Who knew when she'd come back down? It could be two minutes or twenty. Hell, it could be all night. He had places to go. Doughertys to kill. He couldn't stay here waiting for her. Dammit. It was now or never. It was now. He stepped out of the shadows and raised the pistol. And fired.
"Police! Drop your weapon."
He lurched back. The shout hadn't come from Mitchell or Solliday. Mitchell was nowhere to be seen and Solliday was out of his vehicle, his own gun drawn. Shit.
He backed up, one step, then two. His heart stopped when Solliday spotted him.
"Stop." Solliday was coming at a run. A fast run.
Get away. He turned and fled.
Mia pushed herself to her feet, her radio in one hand, weapon in the other. "Shots fired at 1342 Sedgewick Place. Plain clothes officer in pursuit. Request backup ASAP."
She stood in the street, making her mind focus through the adrenaline blur. Someone had yelled, right after the shot was fired, but the street was empty. She pressed the radio to her forehead, then back to her mouth. "Solliday." When he didn't answer panic began to grip her throat and she began to run. "Solliday."
"I'm here." His voice came crackling across the radio and she stopped, breathing hard, light-headed with relief. "I lost him," he growled. "Get an APB out on White."
She froze. "What?"
"White. Math Boy. Hurry, Mia. He's still on foot around here somewhere."
He tried to kill me. "This is Detective Mitchell, homicide. We are in pursuit of a Caucasian male, approximately twenty-five years of age. Five-eight, one hundred fifty pounds. Blond hair, blue eyes. Suspect is armed and wanted in connection with four murders. Goes by the name of Devin White. Repeat, suspect is armed."
"We read you, Detective," Dispatch said. "Do you need medical attention?"
"No. Just send backup. We need to seal off this entire neighborhood. He escaped on foot, so send a unit to the El station two blocks south of here." She looked up to see Solliday emerging from the alley at a jog. He stopped short, eyes going fierce.
"You're hit."
She lifted her hand to her cheek, wiped at the blood here. "Grazed me. I'm fine."
He lifted her chin, nodded once, then let her go. "Who yelled 'Police'?"
"Don't know." She turned in a circle, looking. "That was Math Boy? You're sure?"
He nodded, still breathing hard. "Yeah. Fast little bastard. I almost had him and he darted around some trash cans and knocked them into my path."
"You were pretty fast yourself."
"Not fast enough. He's given us the slip again."
"We'll set up roadblocks." Her instinct said someone was still there. "But the El is only two blocks from here. He could be there now. He could still be here. Dammit, I feel like somebody's watching…" A noise behind her had her spinning around, her weapon in a two-handed grip. "Come out with your hands up."
"I'll be damned," Solliday murmured and Mia blinked.
From out of the shadows, near where White had escaped walked… her. Her blond head was covered with a black beret and instead of dark suit she'd worn at the press conference, she wore a black leather jacket, identical to the one Mia had been wearing the night Abe was shot. Her lips were curved in a self-mocking smile. In one hand she held a pistol, but flat against her raised palm. The other hand held a badge.
Mia blew out a breath. "God, this day just keeps getting better and better."
Thursday, November 30, 9:15 p.m.
He got off the El two stops later and walked right to a little Ford, his slim-jim in his hand. A wiggle and a pop later he was behind the wheel and thirty seconds after that, driving down the road, his backpack on the seat beside him.
Once again out of the public eye. He'd sat on the train, wondering who was watching him, comparing his face to the photo they'd shown on the news. He'd been cool headed, not shrinking into his seat but not meeting anyone's eye. Normal.
Had he got her? Was Mitchell dead, brains splattered all over the pavement? He wasn't sure. His bullet had come close. But he'd come too close to getting caught, that was for damn sure. Solliday had seen him. Recognized him. His ruse had failed.
So step back. Stay out of public for a while. Do what you need to do tonight and tomorrow, hightail it out of town. Find the last four, then you're done.
Thursday, November 30, 9:15 p.m.
"Just put the gun down slowly," Mia said.
The woman did, placing her weapon gently on the sidewalk. "You got hit," she said.
Mia holstered her own service piece. "A scratch."
Two cruisers pulled up and Mia looked over her shoulder. Four more followed.
"I'll take care of it," Solliday said. "I'll get them organized in a roadblock."
"Thanks," she murmured, then turned back to the woman. "Let's have it." She took the woman's badge and held it up to the light. "Olivia Sutherland. Minneapolis PD."
Sutherland's mouth curved, that same self-mocking smile. "Hey, sis."
Mia gave her back her badge. "Why didn't you just come talk to me? Why have you been following me around for weeks? Are you trying to make me flicking nuts?"
"I wasn't trying to make you… nuts. I didn't know if I wanted to talk to you. I didn't know if I wanted to know you. I kind of thought I wouldn't."
Mia waited a half beat before inclining her head. "And that would be because!"
She shrugged. "He wanted you. Not me. Your mother. Not mine."
Mia blinked. Then laughed. "You're kidding, right?"
The mocking smile disappeared. "I wouldn't dream of it."
Obviously someone had painted this woman a much rosier picture of Bobby Mitchell than he deserved. "Let's start again. Olivia Sutherland, thank you for saving my ass."
The little smile came back. "I was hoping you'd noticed."
"Why did you?"
She shrugged. "I didn't want to like you. I wanted to hate your guts. But I watched you and realized I might have a few things wrong. I was set to leave this afternoon when I saw your address published in this morning's paper."
She frowned. "You need to do something about that woman, you know. That Carmichael woman is poison."
"Yeah. I kind of got that. So… you've been hanging here all day?"
"Off and on. Mostly on. I thought if you came home, I'd say hi and good-bye. But you don't come home very often."
"I know. I usually hang at friends' houses."
"The redhead at the funeral?"
"She's one. Look, I want to talk to you, but I've got to take care of this." She gestured over her shoulder to where Solli-day had a map spread out on the hood of one of the cruisers, setting up the roadblocks.
Sutherland smiled. "When things settle down, we can talk."
When things settle down. Suddenly the phrase smacked Mia in the face. She'd lost too many things because she'd waited for things to settle down. Now here was an opportunity that might not come again. "No, because they never will. How old are you?"
Sutherland blinked. "Twenty-nine." Then she smiled. "You're rude to ask."
Mia smiled back. "I know. Can you stick around for a few more days?"
"No. I had some time saved up, took some leave, but my captain is after me to come back. I have to go home."
"Just another day. Please. I didn't know you existed until three weeks ago. We obviously have a few things in common, besides Bobby. Where are you staying?"
Sutherland studied Mia's face, then nodded. "Mother moved to Minnesota after I was born, but my aunt still lives here. I'm staying with her." She scrawled an address and a phone number on the back of her card. "I know where you live."
"Not for a few days. I'll be on the move most likely. But here's my cell." She gave Sutherland a card, watched her pocket it, then thoughtfully raise her eyes.
"I lived my life wishing I was you. Hating you. You're not who I thought you'd be."
"Sometimes I even surprise myself," Mia said wryly. "Now we're going to have to take your statement. The guy you scared off has killed four women."
Her blue eyes widened and it was like looking into a mirror. "Then that's…?"
Little sister read the papers. "Yeah. Come on. Let's get to work."
Thursday, November 30, 10:00 p.m.
Math Boy was gone. Reed silently fumed as he watched the police go door to door. So close. He'd come so close. He could see the bastard's leering face. His triumphant grin when he knew he'd gotten away. If he'd been another step faster…
"If you keep frowning like that, your face will stay that way," Mia said and leaned against his SUV next to him.
"I had him in my hands." He gritted his teeth. "Dammit. I almost had him."
"'Almost' only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes," she said. "We're wasting our time, Reed. He's not going to stick around here. He's gone."
"I know," he said bitterly.
"I'm wondering why he did this at all. Why me?"
Reed shrugged. "We're getting close and he knows it. Besides, if he knows your address, he also knows you were shot at Tuesday night."
She lifted her fingers to her cheek where an EMT had placed two stitches to close the skin the bullet had grazed. "A distraction."
"Mia!"
As one they turned to find Jack by the door of her apartment building. He held a bullet in the palm of his hand. "If he'd been a fraction of an inch more on target…"
As it had multiple times in the last hour, Reed's blood went cold. A fraction of an inch more and the bullet would have plowed into the base of her skull rather than skim the surface of her cheek. A fraction of an inch and he might have lost her.
"Yeah, yeah," she said. "I'd be dead. Thanks, Jack."
"Actually," Jack said dryly, "it probably would have bounced off your damn hard head. Sometimes I wish you weren't so lucky. You're starting to think you are bulletproof. And you're not."
No, she wasn't. Reed swallowed back the fear that rose in his throat every time his mind replayed the scene of her dropping to the pavement. "Jack, we're beat. Can Mia pack her bag and get out of here?"
Jack eyed him shrewdly and Reed knew the phone calls between Abe and Aidan and Jack hadn't just been about trading phone numbers. "Yeah. Watch her back until she gets… to where she's going."
They all looked around at that, each one realizing that the walls potentially had ears.
"I will." Reed held open the door to her apartment building. "Let's get your bag packed." He waited until she'd unlocked her front door, then pushed her inside and up against the door, his heart pounding. He covered her mouth with his, too hard and too desperate. But in a second it didn't matter because her arms were around his neck and she was kissing him back, just as hard and just as desperate.
He pulled away, breathing as hard as he had when he'd chased the scum-sucking murdering asshole toad. "Thanks. I needed that," she whispered.
He rested his forehead on hers. "Dammit, Mia. I was so…"
She drew a breath. "Yeah. Me, too."
He stepped back and she looked up at him, awareness in her eyes. "Pack fast. I want you out of here." Then, unable to resist, he cupped her cheek and gently traced his thumb below the stitches. "I want you, period. Come home with me."
"I don't seem to have a choice." One side of her mouth tipped up. "That was a lousy thing to do, manipulating rue like that. Putting Lauren out of her own house."
His thumb moved to her lower lip, fanning back and forth. "Technically, it's my house. She just rents." He paused a half beat. "The guest room on that side has a really comfortable bed. King size. Firm mattress."
"Mine's firm enough," she said blandly, but her eyes darkened. "What else?"
"Well… There is the firepole. And the trapeze. And the trampoline."
She laughed. "You win. I'll pack."
He followed her back to her bedroom. It looked like a tornado had gone through, sheets and blankets in a tangled mess on the floor. Just as they'd left them early this morning. He eyed the bed, then her. She was eyeing it, too. Then shook her head.
"No," she said. "Not with half of CSU combing the street outside my window."
Hurriedly and without fuss she stuffed a duffel bag with the things she'd need, then hesitated, her hand on a small framed photo. Two teenaged girls smiled brightly for the camera, but even though they stood close, they didn't touch. "You and Kelsey?"
"Yeah." She shoved in the bag. "I need to tell her about Olivia, but I'm afraid to visit her in the new place. I'm afraid to even know where it is."
"So…" He hooked a finger under her chin, lifted her face. It was the first time she'd mentioned the woman other than to take her statement and wish her a pleasant evening. Jack had figured out who she was, but Reed knew Mia wasn't anxious to broadcast the woman's identity to every uniform within earshot. "Tell me about Olivia."
She shrugged. "You know everything I do. We're going to try to get together for an hour tomorrow night and talk." She started to shoulder the bag, but he took it from her.
"Let me. Please," he added when her eyes flashed. It was so hard for her to accept help in any form. Tough. She'd have to learn to accept his.
For how long? That would depend on the conversation they'd have as soon as he got her back to his house. That would depend on her expectations. Right now, he was praying he hadn't misjudged her need for independence. And strings.
She nodded, walked to her front door, then stopped. "Fuck," she muttered, then wrenched open the closet door. Sitting all alone was the small box and trifolded flag. Teeth clenched, she grabbed the box and shoved it in the bag as well. "Let's go."