Under the Gun (UDA 4) by Jayne Hannah

Author:Jayne, Hannah [Jayne, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Fiction, Fantasy, Women Sleuths, General
ISBN: 0758281102
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2013-02-05T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Alex made a beeline for the parking lot, snapping his shoulder holster back on and barking into his cell phone. I hurried behind him, jamming my gun into my shoulder bag, then thinking better of it, and trying to jam it into the waistband of my pants.

Not a lot of room in the back of my pants these days.

“You want me to drop you off on the way?” Alex asked as we crossed the lot.

I narrowed my eyes and he rolled his. “Of course not,” he sighed.

Alex’s SUV had a chic row of cop lights on the dash, which made screaming through intersections and his pole-position driving completely warranted. He loved it. I loved keeping my innards on the inside and not flying through windshields, so I was pressing myself into my seat as far as humanly possible, and praying to the God of Ford that they weren’t cutting corners on seat belts. But with a murder in front of me and the city racing beside me, I didn’t have much time to focus on my fear—or my squashed sex drive.

When we turned into the Pacific Heights neighborhood, Alex slowed and I was able to dislodge my heart from my throat.

“Hey,” I said, peering out the window. “Doesn’t this area look familiar?”

“It’s Pacific Heights, Lawson. You’ve been here a thousand times.”

“No, I haven’t been here a thousand times,” I said, speaking slowly, eyes still swishing over the darkened sidewalks. “I’ve only been here . . .” I bit my bottom lip, considering, “Ummm . . .”

Then it hit me.

“There!” I pointed frantically across the cab, my arm just under Alex’s nose. “Right there!”

“We’re supposed to go to forty-nine California. That’s thirty-six. It’s not even the right side of the street.”

“No, that’s where we went when—” My stomach started to quiver. It had been a long time, and I had, unfortunately, seen my share of crime scenes in the years since. But, much like with riding a bike or sex, I guessed you never forget your first time.

Alex nodded. “The Collector case.”

I nodded back. “Uh-huh.”

It was the first crime scene I had ever been to, and I couldn’t help but remember the pristine room, the high ceilings, and the tulips leaning so gracefully over the cut-glass lip of the vase. I also couldn’t help but recall the woman who’d looked as though she had just fallen into a light and peaceful slumber, with her golden-blond hair splayed over the pillow, her pale pink lips pressed together. Under her satin blankets her chest was torn open, her heart removed.

It was an image I never bothered to strain from my mind, because I knew it was burned into my subconscious.

I rolled down the window and pressed my head out, gulping in a huge lungful of the slightly salt-tinged air. I leaned back into the car. “Did they tell you anything when headquarters called it in?”

Alex chewed his bottom lip and shook his head silently—a sure sign he knew more than he was letting on.

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