Last Known Victim by Erica Spindler

Author:Erica Spindler
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

38

Monday, May 7, 2007

12:45 p.m.

Patti sat at her desk. What she had said to Yvette Borger had been true—the young woman needed her. But she, ISD captain and career NOPD, needed her just as much. Maybe more.

She wanted the Handyman that badly.

Not the Handyman, per se, but Sammy’s killer. So badly she could taste it.

Borger had given her no proof. Nothing but her word to go on.

She believed her. Ironically. After a lifetime of analytically weighing evidence, objectively assessing witnesses and suspects, she was throwing it all away. Putting her trust in a known liar.

That’s why Spencer hadn’t bought Yvette’s tale—she had fabricated the original story about Kitten. When Marcus Gabrielle had been killed, she had created a fictitious “business partner.” Then she had approached them with the Artist again, without witnesses or proof.

Toss in a record and an admitted dislike for cops, only an idiot would take her at her word.

Captain Patti O’Shay, at your service.

She considered going to the chief, laying it all out for him, asking him to give her a chance. But if he refused, she was screwed.

And he would refuse. Chief Howard liked Franklin. She couldn’t blame him. The guy was an ex-con; he’d been caught with the murder weapon in his possession. Unless she presented him with something really compelling, Chief Howard would not be swayed.

She had to go this one alone. That included leaving Spencer out of it.

Time to put all her ducks in a row.

First, a detective to question the two dancers who had known Jessica Skye. She had called the Hustle and obtained the necessary information from the general manager.

Standing, she crossed to her door and peered out to see who was available. As she did, Tony Sciame ambled across her line of vision, a Taco Bell bag clutched in his left hand.

“Detective Sciame, could I have a minute? Feel free to bring your lunch.”

“Sure, Captain.” He followed her into her office and plopped onto a chair. The smell of spicy meat and grease filled the air. “Mind if I eat?” he asked.

“Please do.”

She watched as he pulled out a soft taco and took a huge bite. Messy things. Beef and sauce oozed out the ends and onto his fingers. He didn’t seem to mind and took another bite, gaze on hers, waiting.

“I want you to question these two women, Gia Stiles and Autumn Wind.”

She slid the women’s data across her desk. “That’s their home information. They’re both dancers at the Hustle. Apparently they knew a fellow dancer, Jessica Skye. I have reason to believe Ms. Skye is our City Park Jane Doe.”

Tony nodded, crumpled the now-empty taco wrapper, stuffed it into the bag, then helped himself to another.

“That it?” he asked.

“See what else you can dig up on Skye. Previous addresses. Friends. Lovers. Family members.”

He made quick work of the second taco, wiped his fingers on a napkin, then retrieved his spiral notebook from his shirt pocket and plucked a pen from the holder on her desk. He jotted down what she had said so far, then looked back up at her.

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