The Rookie Club: Dead Center Part 16

Linda shook her head. "Ten years and I swear she had a new guy every time I saw her. She broke more hearts than Elvis."

"Good thing it's a big department," Cameron added. "I wonder why she never settled down. Seems like she could have picked her man."

Hailey glanced at Jamie. She was looking over her shoulder again. Hailey cast a glance into the crowd. No one stood out. Sometimes when she stood in a crowd like this one, Hailey wondered how many of the people around her were criminals? How many had gotten away with it?

Men bellied up to the bar, displaying tatted skin or stupid golf-shirts. Most had a girl-usually younger-at their side. How many men in that room had raped a girl? More than two, she'd bet. Killed? One, maybe. Impossible to say. It would certainly make the job easier if they were branded like cattle.

Hailey considered her own mother, those relationships that lasted only a week, sometimes just one night. What had made her mother run through men like that? Was that why Hailey couldn't love only one man? She sipped her margarita, let the salt burn her lips. G.o.d, it was complicated.

"Did you have to do the next-of-kin notification?" Linda asked.

Hailey nodded. "I met her parents. And a brother." She thought of Camilla and Ali, prayed she never had to hear that news. That they never had to hear it.

"Man, I hope it was a stranger killing," Jess said.

Jamie shook her head. "It wasn't."

Hailey watched her, waited.

Jamie shrugged, ran her finger through the perspiration on her gla.s.s. "This person had unforced s.e.x with her before she was killed. Not a stranger crime."

Hailey nodded. "It was someone she knew."

"s.h.i.t," Jess said.

"You think it was an officer?" Linda asked.

Hailey shrugged. "It doesn't seem smart to have s.e.x with a woman and then kill her, and the timing suggests that's how it went down. You'd think a cop would be smarter."

"Unless it was a crime of pa.s.sion," Cameron suggested.

Hailey nodded. "And from what we know, he used something from the scene to kill her, so that would fit the crime of pa.s.sion theory. He gets angry, picks something up and smashed in her head."

"From experience, I'd say it's much easier just to pull a gun and start shooting," Jamie said, breaking into a rye smile.

The table erupted in laughter.

Jamie shook her head. "Sorry. Bad form but I couldn't resist."

Cameron turned to Hailey. "You caught it, though, eh?"

She nodded. "Lucky me."

Jess shuddered. "d.a.m.n, I hope you close it soon. Murdering a cop takes a s.h.i.tload of b.a.l.l.s."

The waitress came by and they ordered, exchanged stories. Jess ordered another beer. Hailey poured herself another half gla.s.s of margarita from a new pitcher. Dinner was arriving when Jamie jumped up from the table, her metal chair sc.r.a.ping across the floor. "Holy c.r.a.p."

Hailey turned to see her staring out the window, her expression frozen.

"What?"

Jamie pointed out into the rain.

Hailey followed her gaze, looked back. It wouldn't be the first time dinner had been interrupted by a crime in progress.

Soon, the whole table turned.

"It's Stephanie," Linda said.

"And Scott Scanlan," someone added.

"They're dating."

A dark car was parked on the curb, the door open. Stephanie had one foot out. Scanlan could barely be seen in the shadow of the car.

Hailey saw his face appear as he leaned over to kiss Stephanie. As she moved, Hailey caught sight of something dangling between them.

Jamie bolted for the door, darting between tables. "Don't you see it?" she shouted back.

"See what?" Adrenaline streamed in Hailey's belly. She jumped up to follow, the others behind her.

She reached the door, saw Scanlan step out of the far side of the car. He came around and opened the door for Stephanie.

Stephanie stepped out.

Hailey caught up. "Can you see it?" Jamie asked.

"See what?" she returned.

"Scanlan," Jamie shouted. "Step to the curb."

Scanlan didn't hear, or didn't look up.

Jamie called to him again.

A group of people had spilled from the restaurant to watch.

Stephanie stepped forward, tried to interject, but Hailey cut her off with a sharp stare. "Stay out of this."

Stephanie retreated, but the crowd continued to surge like a swelling storm. This was getting out of hand.

Scanlan turned toward them.

He stared at Jamie, his face set in the grimace of a scared teenager.

"Step away from the car," Jamie repeated.

"What is this about?" he demanded.

"Please," she said. "I just need to confirm something. It will only take a second. I won't touch the car."

"Who are you?" Scanlan shouted at her, starting to come toward her like a charging bull.

Jamie didn't seem to care. She flashed her badge. "Inspector Jamie Vail."

He stopped moving and planted himself in front of his car. "What do you want?"

"I need you to please step away from the car," Jamie repeated.

He didn't move, scanned the group of women watching him. Color rose in his cheeks and his eyes narrowed in anger. "What are you guys? f.u.c.king Charlie's Angels?"

Hailey stayed quiet, no idea what was transpiring. "Jamie? What is it?"

Jamie didn't smile. "Yeah, we're Charlie's Angels. Now, please step aside before I pull out my gun and shoot you."

Scanlan looked momentarily stunned as he stepped away from the car. At least no one had drawn a gun yet. Scanlan was in trouble over the burrito thing, but this wasn't going to shine well on them, either. In general, it was best not to embarra.s.s a cop in public and this was getting to be pretty d.a.m.n public.

Jamie glanced back. "Hailey, look at it."

Confused, Hailey glanced at the dark car. She felt the jolt in her gut. "It's-"

Jamie nodded. "Look at the crystal hanging from the rearview mirror."

Hailey pictured Marchek's photograph in her mind-imagined the tiny rainbows. The car that Natasha Devlin had been sitting in when Marchek took that picture. The car where she sat, holding her trophy, after the awards banquet... That car belonged to Scott Scanlan, the deputy chief of police's son.

"d.a.m.n," whispered Hailey.

Chapter 18.

Emily Osbourne sat awkwardly in the car as her boyfriend drove toward the city. She'd spent the past three days with her parents in New Haven and Paul had picked her up at the airport in her car. He always drove no matter whose car it was. She didn't know why that fact suddenly seemed weird to her. Maybe because it was the first time she'd been in her car since it happened. Or perhaps it was because she'd met Paul on the curb in front of baggage claim. He had just pulled up in her car. He'd been waiting in the cell phone lot rather than coming in to baggage claim. When she came home after two weeks back east in June, Paul met her at baggage claim. With flowers.

Maybe it had nothing at all to do with whose car it was and everything to do with that fact that he'd said almost nothing so far. When she got into the car, it smelled like lavender and it had almost made her sick. She'd stopped him from driving away so she could remove the small sachet she'd gotten from their trip to the Ritz from the glove compartment and throw it in the trash before they'd left the airport. Still, the smell haunted her, seemed to ruin the memory of their night away.

Now she remembered the hospital room, the interview. Jamie Vail wore lavender perfume. Paul watched the whole thing with the lavender in silence. He didn't want to know why she didn't like the lavender smell. He didn't want to know because he knew what it was about. It related to her-She stopped, couldn't think it.

She ran a finger across the st.i.tches above her eye. While there were fading bruises under her clothes, the st.i.tches and her black eye were the only visible signs of what had happened. Paul turned left onto Greenwich from Franklin and found a parking s.p.a.ce a block from her house. He parked, pulled the keys from the ignition, and handed them to her.

"How are you going to get back to work?" she asked.

He palmed his cell phone. "I'll grab a cab. I've got my car parked downtown."

She nodded, fiddling with her silver heart keychain.

When they reached her apartment, he lifted the suitcase up the stairs.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, Paul behind her. She gathered her mail and Paul followed her down the short hallway.

She had barely gotten the door to the apartment open when he set her bag down and stepped away. "I'll talk to you later."

"You're leaving?"

"Got to get back," he said casually.

"We've barely talked since it happened."

With the word "it," Paul inspected his shoes carefully.

"Are we ever going to talk about it?" she asked.

His gaze remained on his shoes. "About what?"

"About what happened."

He looked up at her and she saw some of the old Paul. Her Paul. Hurt, honest.

She nodded. "Please say something."

"You-" He stopped himself. "I don't know." He looked away. "I don't know if I can handle it."

Her hands trembled with anger. "You. Don't. Know. You don't know if you can handle what?" Her voice echoed in the small s.p.a.ce of the entryway.

Paul didn't answer, but he wasn't getting off that easy. Furious, she stepped forward again, forcing him to step back into the hallway. "Handle what, Paul?" she repeated, seeing the spark of fear in his eyes-or maybe it was shame.

He shook his head.

"If you can handle what happened to me?" She poked her chest with her index finger, her heart pounding as she waited for his response.

"I don't know how to act around you now," he said. "I don't know if you're going to fall apart on me or-" He made a vague gesture at her body. "If-you know."

"No. I don't know. I might cry, Paul. I might have a nightmare. I was raped, for G.o.d's sake."

Openly cringing, he scanned the stairs above them then glanced over his shoulder to the street.

"Did someone hear me? Are you worried what your friends will think?"

He glanced at her before his gaze skidded away again. He pulled his phone from his pocket and moved it in around in his palm nervously. "I-"

"That's it, isn't it? It's not me. It's you. You don't want to be with me now. Is that it?"

He flipped his phone in his palm, flipped it again.

She reached over and s.n.a.t.c.hed it from his hand.