“I don’t know, really. Ow! Fuck!” The cigarette had burned down to his fingers, and Jason flung it away.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Jason.”
“I don’t know, okay? He had a hat and shades on.”
“Indoors?” Diaz sounded skeptical.
“Yeah, okay? I barely saw him. He came in right after Shelly and asked to see the tracking slip, and he paid me a fifty and then he left. That’s it.”
“Do you have the fifty?” Charlotte asked, even though fingerprinting money was about as useful as lifting DNA off a gas-station urinal.
Jason shook his head. “I spent it.”
Of course he did.
Charlotte gave him a cool stare, then looked at Diaz. She could read her partner’s mind. This was a good lead, but they were in for a long day. They were going to have to bring this guy in for a formal interview and also get access to the surveillance footage from inside the mail shop, which could require a warrant.
“Is that all?” Jason asked. “I have to get back to work now.”
Diaz laughed. “No, Jason, that’s not all. Not by a long shot.”
Kira worked off some of her tension at her gym while Trent waited in the lobby, attracting stares from every woman in the place and a few men. Jeremy’s promise of his team keeping a low profile was not panning out, but it was only the gym, so Kira let it go. For now, at least. She wasn’t footing the bill for her security, and their transportation was reliable, so that was a perk.
Kira gathered her gym bag off the floor of Trent’s SUV as he pulled into her driveway. Gina’s car was back in its customary spot, and Trent parked behind it.
“Thanks for the ride,” Kira said.
“No problem. Are you in for the night?”
“Think so.” Not exactly a yes. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
His gaze narrowed with suspicion as she grabbed her water bottle and jumped out. He walked her to her back step, scanning the surrounding area as she unlocked the door and tapped in her alarm code.
“Well, good night,” she said as she noticed Gina’s blinds shifting.
“Call if you need anything,” Trent told her.
“I will.”
After he left, Kira stood by the door and listened to him back out of the driveway.
By anyone’s standards, Trent was extremely good-looking. He was tall and muscular and had an adorable dimple that showed when he laughed. He was friendly and easygoing, too, so of course, Kira wasn’t attracted to him at all.
She dropped her bag on the sofa and cursed her stupid taste in men. She was drawn to the strong, silent types. The cool and unreadable ones who almost never let their guard down. She had a history with such men, and it wasn’t pretty. The relationships—if you could even call them that—started with a bang and soon flamed out, and she was left wondering why she kept on torturing herself.
Gina said her problem stemmed from a taciturn father who withheld approval. Kira thought it was much simpler. Men who didn’t talk had less chance of pissing her off before she decided to sleep with them, hence, she did. It wasn’t until later that she realized they were either (a) assholes, or (b) emotionally closed off and she was wasting her time.
A knock sounded at the back door, and Kira wasn’t surprised to find Gina there.
“How was Padre Island?” Kira asked.
“Hot.” Gina stepped inside, smelling like coconut oil. With her windblown brown hair and sunburned cheeks, she looked like she’d just come off the beach.
“How are you?” Gina asked, giving her a hug. “I’m so sorry about your friend.”
“Thank you.” Kira’s stomach knotted at the words. She thought of Ollie’s daughter this morning with her puffy pink eyes and the shoe-box of photos in her lap.
“It must have been awful,” Gina said with a look of concern.
“It was.” Kira stepped into the kitchen. “Would you like a muffin? I just made some.”
“No, thanks. And you’re changing the subject.”
“I know.” Kira leaned back against the counter. There was no dodging Gina’s worried look as she pulled out a breakfast chair and sat down. They’d been friends since the day Kira moved in and Gina showed up at her door with a bottle of wine, which they’d shared while they unpacked Kira’s kitchen. Gina was like the sister Kira had never had. They swapped clothes and work troubles and dating nightmares. But this new nightmare was all too real, and Kira wasn’t ready to talk about it.
“So was that your bodyguard I just saw?” Gina asked, kindly shifting to a lighter topic.
“One of them.”
“Wow.”
“They stay out of sight, mostly.”
Gina smiled. “That’s too bad.”
“I meant to tell you,” Kira said, “the security company offered to install an alarm system on your side of the duplex, if you’re interested. You wouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“Don’t tell me Bruce is paying. I asked him about an alarm system before I moved in here, and he wouldn’t even consider it,” Gina said.
“My client is paying.”
“Wow. What did Bruce say?”
“I haven’t mentioned it yet.”
Gina lifted an eyebrow.
“He’ll either bitch about me ‘damaging’ the place and threaten to keep my security deposit, or he’ll say it’s an improvement and try to raise the rent.”
Gina rolled her eyes. “He’s such a weasel. And sure, I’d love to get something if someone else is picking up the tab. I just ran over a damn nail and had to get a tire replaced. I swear, I don’t know what I’d do if my boyfriend wasn’t a mechanic.”
“That reminds me, you think Mike would mind if I asked him to look at my car? It’s making that noise again.”
“Sure, no problem. Just swing by the shop. I’ll tell him you’re coming.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, you want to come out with us tonight?” Gina asked. “We’re meeting Rowan and Luke over at the Tap House.”
“I have to work tonight.”
“You sure? It might do you good to get out.”
“Next time, maybe. I really have to get some stuff done,” Kira said. “And honestly, I’m not up for a crowded bar tonight anyway.”
Gina stood and gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, text me if you change your mind.”
“I will.”
Gina hugged her and left, and Kira locked the door behind her but didn’t set the alarm. With a sigh, she surveyed her house. Her kitchen was still a mess, and her dishes hadn’t managed to wash themselves while she’d been gone. She stepped over to the breakfast table, where she’d spread out her paperwork. She’d spent hours last night combing through Ollie’s notebook and searching for leads.
Ollie’s cryptic scrawl stared up at her. She’d managed to decipher some of it. He’d gone out on a series of surveillance jobs and taken notes each time. Kira had flagged a few items that caught her attention. He’d written “L.H.” and “to L.H.” several times, and there had been three mentions of “XS co.” Was L.H. a person? A place? Was there a company called XS? Or was he running surveillance on an extra-small company? Between Ollie’s odd shorthand and his terrible handwriting, Kira had come up with more questions than answers.
She picked up the fast-food receipt she’d found in his van. The time stamp said he’d been at Whataburger in Channelview at 10:18 last Friday, exactly a week ago. She tried to recall that night. She’d wanted to go jogging after work, but it was raining, so she’d gone to the gym instead. She remembered talking to Ollie on the phone, and he’d vaguely said he was “working” but didn’t mention any details.