He didn't look up. "I think that before we go back to Hope Center, we should have a little background on the actors." His lips quirked up. "I mean the Axis of Evil."
"I should have done that already," she muttered and forced herself out of her chair.
"Well, you didn't," he said mildly. "That's why you have a partner, Mia, so you don't have to do everything yourself."
She leaned a hip against his desk and drew in a breath, smelling his aftershave. His face was smooth around the goatee, which had tickled her inner thighs. She let out the breath. "So that's why I have a partner?" she murmured, loud enough for only his ears.
His fingers paused on the keyboard, then resumed their steady pace. "Mia," he warned under his breath, through his teeth.
"Sorry. You're right." She shook herself and paid attention to the screen. He knew his way around law enforcement databases. She never thought of fire marshals using them. She was learning a great deal about fire marshals lately. "What did you find?"
He tapped a few keys and read the screen with interest. "Secrest is an ex-cop."
"Lots of cops go into private security after they retire. Doesn't surprise me."
"No, but this does. He quit and went to work for Bixby four years ago, just two years before he would have retired from CPD."
"Lost out on a hefty pension," Mia murmured. "I wonder what happened."
"Maybe you can talk to some of his old friends and find out."
"I'll ask Spinnelli to do it. He can weasel info I can't. What about Thompson?"
"Our helpful school psychologist," he muttered. "No record in this database." He Googled him. "Thompson's a PhD from Yale."
Mia frowned. "What's a Yale boy doing in juvie? The pay's gotta suck."
"He's authored a book. Rehabilitation of Juvenile Offenders. I checked Manny's Hope Center file. He's been in therapy with Thompson for some time."
She lifted her brows. "I wonder if Dr. Thompson's planning a sequel."
"It would explain his temper tantrum when we took Manny in. Can we get into his files?"
"Probably not based on what we've got, but we can ask. So what about Bixby?"
He kept his eyes on the screen. "He's authored a few articles on education."
"Two of the articles are on using education in rehabilitation," she noted.
"Again, I wonder why he's not going for a higher salary."
"We'll find out. Check on Atticus Lucas, the art teacher."
He did. "He's had exhibits before." He scanned the page then looked up at her. "Prestigious galleries. Again, I wonder why he's there."
"What about Hope? It'll be a nonprofit, right? Do you know how to check finances?"
The look he shot her was overly patient. "Yes, Mia."
The look she shot him was dry. "Then see if you can find anything while I check my voicemail. Then we should get going. All the teachers should be there by nine."
A newspaper landed on her desk. Murphy stood glaring. "What?" she said.
"You're in the news again, glamour girl. Page three of the Bulletin, bottom right."
For a moment she wondered if Carmichael had already reported on her wild night with Reed, but dismissed it. Press time was 1:00 a.m. at the Bulletin. Reed didn't leave until almost four. Her eyes dropped down and she felt the blood drain from her face.
It was worse. Way worse. Temper spilled over and she fought the pagan urge to wrap her hands around Carmichael's neck. "I want to…" Kill that woman. She bit the words off and looked up at Solliday whose eyes were worried. "Carmichael. She found out about Getts shooting at us on Tuesday night. She printed my home address. First Wheaton, now this. I have no privacy anymore. You know, I really hate reporters."
"What about Wheaton?" Murphy asked and she sighed.
"She noticed the mystery blonde yesterday. She tried to use it to get Reed to give her confidential information on this case."
"But you didn't, Solliday." Murphy's fingers drummed a beat on her desk.
Reed flicked him an impatient glance. "Of course I didn't." He picked up the paper calmly, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes flashed fury. "She needs to be stopped."
"She'll hide behind the first amendment." Mia ran her tongue over her teeth. "She's off my Christmas list, Reed. I don't care if she did give me DuPree on a platter."
His eyes still flickered with anger. "That'll fix her for sure. Mia, you can't stay at your place. Every scum-sucking toad in town will be hanging out on your doorstep."
She grinned. "Scum-sucking toad? I think I'm starting to rub off on you, Solliday."
"I'm serious, Mia. You have to find a new apartment."
"He's right, Mia," Murphy added. "It's like she painted a bull's-eye on your ass."
"I'm not moving and I'm not talking about this right now. I'm going to listen to my voicemail then do my fucking job." She grabbed her phone. Ignoring the two glowering men. Then frowned. "I got a message from Dr. Thompson last night."
"Which one of the Axis of Evil is he again?" Murphy asked, still mad at her.
"The school psychologist. He said he needed to see us. That it was urgent."
"I don't trust a word that comes out of his mouth," Reed gritted.
"Me either. But let's go find out what he wants."
Thursday, November 30, 9:15 A.M.
"Solliday and Mitchell here to see Dr. Bixby and Dr. Thompson," Reed said.
Marcy's mouth tightened. "I'll call Dr. Bixby."
Secrest was with Bixby, but Thompson was not. Neither knew about Brooke Adler's death, Reed decided. Or if they did, they were damn good at hiding it.
"Can I help you?" Bixby asked formally.
"We asked for Dr. Thompson as well," Mia told him. "We'd like to speak to him."
Bixby frowned. "You can't. He's not here."
Reed and Mia exchanged a glance. "Not here?" Reed asked. "Then where is he?"
"We don't know. He's usually at his desk by eight, but he hasn't come in yet."
Reed lifted a brow. "Does he normally just not show up?"
Bixby looked irritated. "No, he always calls."
"Did anybody call his house?" Mia asked.
Secrest nodded once. "I did. Nobody answered. Why do you need to see him?"
"He called me. I thought it might have something to do with Brooke Adler's murder."
For a moment, neither man moved. Then Secrest's jaw cocked to one side and Bixby's face drained of color. Behind him, Reed heard Marcy gasp.
"When?" Secrest demanded. "How?"
"Early this morning," Reed said. "She died of injuries sustained in a fire."
Bixby looked down, still dazed. "I can't believe this."
Mia lifted her chin. "I can. I was there when she died."
"Did she say anything before she died?"
Mia smiled darkly. "She said a great many things, Dr. Bixby. For the record, where were you this morning between three and four?"
Bixby blustered. "I can't possibly be a suspect."
Secrest sighed. "Just answer her question, Bix."
Bixby narrowed his eyes. "At home. Asleep. With my wife. She'll confirm it."
"I'm sure she will," Mia said blandly. "And Mr. Secrest? Same question."
"At home. Asleep. With my wife," he answered with the barest hint of sarcasm.
"She'll confirm it." Amused, Mia smiled. "Thank you, gentlemen."
Reed nearly smiled. She was taunting the men and enjoying it. "We'll need to talk to your staff and see their personnel files. If you could prepare a room for us to use?"
"Marcy," Bixby snapped. "Set up conference room two. I'll be in my office."