But Charlotte’s gut told her otherwise.
The uniform by the barricade was tall and had a buzz cut. Charlotte didn’t recognize him. She parked her car and approached the man, flashing her ID.
“What do you have?” she asked.
He nodded toward the building, where several officers stood under a covered patio area with a barbecue pit.
“Caucasian female, twenty to thirty, gunshot wound,” he reported. “Neighbor found her on the sidewalk and called nine-one-one.”
“She’s—”
“Dead.”
Charlotte took a deep breath. “Any ID?”
“Not yet. Scene’s taped off, but the ME isn’t here yet, so no one’s touching anything.”
She glanced at the parking lot behind her. A white Honda Accord was parked in a nearby row, and Charlotte read the plate. It was the car she and Diaz had been looking for earlier when they’d stopped by. Charlotte dug a glove from her pocket and pulled it on as she walked over to check the car out. Doors locked. Clean interior. She touched the hood. Still warm.
“Damn it.”
The uniform watched her curiously as she strode past him and followed the courtyard path to the pair of officers. One she recognized. The other looked barely out of braces.
“Gonzales.” She nodded. “Catch me up.”
“Call came in about eleven thirty-two. GSW, close range.” Gonzales gestured toward the building, and Charlotte looked over. Beyond the yellow tape, she saw a low hedge and a woman’s feet peeking out. White sandals. Red toenail polish.
“Anyone report a gunshot?” she asked.
“To my knowledge, no.”
The knot in Charlotte’s stomach tightened.
“Detective Spears?”
She turned around as Buzz Cut walked over.
“There’s a woman here who wants to talk to you,” he said.
“Where?” God, please don’t let it be her mom or sister.
“Over there.” He nodded at the barricade. “Kira somebody? She said she knows you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHE LOOKS bad,” Diaz said in a low voice.
Charlotte followed his gaze to the patrol car, where Kira Vance stood with her arms crossed, staring at her feet, while her security guy scanned the scene with an eagle eye.
Former military, Charlotte would bet on it. She’d meant to run his background, but she’d gotten sidetracked with about ten other aspects of this crazy investigation.
“Think we should take her in?” Diaz asked.
“Let’s keep it informal. We’ll probably get more out of her.”
Kira and her bodyguard had been here for a while now, waiting outside the gate. An officer had already interviewed Kira and relayed the basics, but Charlotte had some follow-up questions. As she walked over, Jeremy Owen’s gaze homed in on her.
“Ms. Vance?”
Kira looked up. Her face was pale, and she had the same blank expression Charlotte remembered from Brock Logan’s patio. Once again, they were standing a stone’s throw away from a bloody crime scene where someone had been shot at close range.
“Get you some water?” Charlotte asked.
“No.”
“I have a few follow-up questions about your interactions with the victim.”
“Okay.” Kira shuddered and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She wore an oversize flannel shirt that swallowed her, but she still seemed cold. The knees of her jeans were damp, and her shoes were muddy.
“What about her?” Kira asked.
“How exactly did you find her? At this address?”
“She told me where she lived over the phone.”
“This was when she called you from her car?”
“That’s right.” Kira cast a wary look at the crime scene, where the ME’s people were still huddled around the body.
Charlotte dug out her notepad and flipped it open. According to Kira’s initial statement, the victim had done some work for Oliver Kovak shortly before his death, so Kira had interviewed her to learn more about it.
“How did you find her?”
Charlotte glanced up. “Me?”
“I noticed you were already here when we arrived,” Kira said, “but another detective’s in charge of the crime scene.”
Sharp girl. And maybe she wasn’t as out of it as she looked.
“We’d been trying to reach her for an interview,” Charlotte said.
“Why?”
“We believe she’s connected to the Kovak case.”
Another glance at the crime scene. “Do you think—” She halted and looked down, like she might get sick. Her face turned a sickly shade of green.
Jeremy eased closer and touched her elbow. “Kira?”
She shook him off and looked at Charlotte. “Do you think I might have led him to her? Whoever killed her?”
Charlotte considered how much to reveal. She sensed she might get more from this witness if she shared some information.
“That’s unlikely.”
Kira’s brows arched.
“We have reason to believe that on Monday afternoon, someone followed her to a mail store, where she sent a package to Oliver Kovak.”
“Post Place, by the courthouse.”
Charlotte frowned. “How’d you know that?”
“She told me.”
Charlotte studied the PI. Clearly, she knew a hell of a lot more about this case than she’d volunteered in her multiple interviews. She was withholding info, and it needed to stop.
“We believe the person followed Michelle Chandler and learned where the package was going,” Charlotte stated, “and then killed Oliver Kovak shortly after he received it.”
Kira stared at her.
“Does that fit with what you have?” Charlotte asked.
A slight nod.
“So what was it?” Charlotte asked Kira. “The package she sent to Kovak? We recovered the envelope at Logan’s but nothing inside.”
“I don’t know,” she obviously lied.
Charlotte stared at her, and it was a battle of wills. Why was this woman so guarded? Was she protecting someone, or was she simply being difficult? Kira Vance had turned up at two murder scenes in less than a week, and Charlotte wanted answers.
“Detective?”
She turned around to see Diaz walking over, notepad in hand. He looked from Kira to Charlotte and seemed to know he’d interrupted something important.
“The ME’s people are wrapping up,” he said.
In other words, she’d better catch them now if she wanted their input without having to wait for official reports.
“Be right there.” She turned back to Kira. “Before you leave, Detective Diaz needs to get an official statement.”
She gave a brisk nod. “Fine.”
Charlotte stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I suggest you share whatever it is you have, Ms. Vance. Keeping investigators in the dark is never a good idea. And it won’t work anyway. We always find out.”
“I know.” Her gaze was steady. “I’m an investigator, too.”
Kira rode in Jeremy’s truck, head pressed against the window, eyes closed, wishing the vibrations would lull her to sleep. They didn’t, but she didn’t mind pretending so she wouldn’t have to talk.
Jeremy smoothly navigated the streets to Kira’s neighborhood, and she pictured a map in her mind’s eye. She tried to visualize every turn and stoplight before it happened. Anything to occupy her thoughts and keep her from puking right here in Jeremy’s truck.