I’m freaked out. I am. I’ve done this kind of thing before, but never has it felt so personal.
Even if I’m not embroiled in it, the killer is dumping the bodies in my fucking space.
Asshole.
I pack my things back into my purse, relieved when my heels fit in there, too, and go downstairs to hand in my room key. I leave it on the reception desk with a note of my room number just so no one will talk to me. Then I all but run out of the hotel.
The spring sun is warm on my face as I step onto the sidewalk, and I pause to savor it for a moment. The sun really does make a difference to your mood, because there’s a tiny lift in my spirits.
My office is only a block away, and I walk down the street until I reach the turn that’ll lead me there. Everyone’s cars are in the parking lot, including a police cruiser. I groan, recognizing it as Drake’s, and push the door open.
Grecia looks up. “Oh! Noelle!” She stands and hugs me tight. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reassure her, smiling. “Can you get everyone to meet me in the conference room across the hall?”
“Of course. Detective Nash is in your office. Bekah let him in,” she adds.
“Thank you.” I take a deep breath and take the stairs to my office. I dart into the room before anyone notices me and shut the door.
“Noelle.”
I turn to see Drake standing. “You’re here early.”
“I’m useless at the station until we get results back, so I thought I’d see how you’re doin’ this mornin’.”
“In other words, you’ve come to question me,” I say wearily, putting my purse down on the desk.
“That, too. Sheriff wants to know what your connection to the murders is.”
“Well, next time you see him, tell him that, as soon as I know, I’ll give him a call. Failin’ that, send him around with cupcakes and I’ll save you the trouble.” My phone rings. “Noelle Bond.”
“Everyone is downstairs,” Grecia says.
“Thank you.” I hang up and look at Drake. “Since you’re here, I guess you may as well sit in on our meeting.”
“I’m honored,” he drawls.
“Don’t be. Someone’s gonna pay if there isn’t a big-ass box of cupcakes today.”
When he doesn’t reply or move, I stop.
“What?”
He frowns at my feet. “You’re wearing boots.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You want a gold star for that observation, Sherlock? Your powers of deduction truly amaze me. I finally understand why you’re off beat and the top detective in homicide.”
Drake smirks, his eyes showing the laughter he’s struggling to contain. “You’re always in heels.”
“I wear Chucks when I have to observe clients,” I correct him.
Sighing, though, I reach down and pull my gun from the boot. His eyebrows go up, his smirk growing, and I put it back.
“But neither Chucks nor heels hide a gun, and I have no issues shooting my way out of this situation.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he murmurs, following me downstairs.
I’ve barely stepped foot in the conference room when Bekah is running at me. She wraps her arms around me, and the force of her attack pushes me back into Drake. He steadies us both by grasping my waist and holding me there.
Bekah talks a mile a minute, ending with a shout of, “Why the fuck didn’t you call me, you dumb bitch?”
I laugh and extract myself from her arms and, more regrettably, from Drake’s warm, large hands at my waist. My arms for once empty of files, I sink into the seat at the head of the table. Drake hovers behind me like a security guard, and it’s kind of annoying. Mostly because I’m pretty sure he can see down my tank top, and I accidentally packed my date-only push-up bra in my hurry yesterday, so I have a badass cleavage right now.
Everyone asks me questions at the same time, the noise cutting through my thoughts, and I whistle sharply to cut through the noise. It works, because everyone falls silent pretty swiftly.
“What y’all are askin’, I can’t answer. I don’t have the details, and it ain’t gonna do you any good starin’ at Detective Pain-In-The-Ass behind me. He doesn’t know either, and he’s already told me he ain’t gonna tell me.” I get a prod between my shoulder blades for that.
“When I know the identity of the victim, I’ll run it by Noelle and see if there’s a connection with Lena Perkins. We’ll take any necessary steps from there, but what she shares with y’all will be on a strictly need-to-know basis, so don’t expect the information you have for Lena. If there’s a connection, Judge Barnes is ready to sign an order to ban any member of the public from hiring you to work the case.”
“Excuse me?” I stand so quickly that my chair falls over. Annoyance threads through my body as I stare Drake down. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“The detective in charge of both cases,” Drake responds, his voice even but his gaze hard. “That’s part of the reason I’m here.”
“Well, break it to me gently, Detective.” I turn around and look at my team, my hands hitting the table hard. “Hit me with what you’re working on today.”
Mike starts. “Two infidelity cases. Surveillance and report writing. Should have one wrapped up tomorrow, and I have a meeting scheduled for three p.m. with another prospective client.”
“Good. Dean?”
“Much of the same, except my case is up in Austin. I’ll be there all day, tracking some businessman. His wife thinks he’s hiring hookers.”
“Any evidence yet?”
“Nope. The strip clubs are some of the better surveillance I’ve carried out though.” He grins.
I shake my head, smiling, and turn to Bekah. “Bekah?”
“Kickin’ your sorry ass and finding out more about both Mallory and Penny.”
“Can’t wait. Sounds good. Marsh?”
“Doin’ whatever everyone else tells me to. Other than that, World of Warcraft.”
“And to think that’s what I pay you for.” I roll my eyes as everyone laughs. “Grecia, did you get Lena’s family yet?”
“No. I did find their last known addresses though. They’re in Austin.”
“Perfect. Dean, could you swing by and see if they’re in? If not, post my card through the letterbox with a note. This is bugging me.”
He nods to agree.
I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m going to spend my morning with my best friend here behind me then get a cab up to Austin to buy myself a shiny, new car. I’m not into having a coffin for a vehicle.”
Dean and Mike snort, and Drake coughs behind me. Marshall and Bekah look at me oddly.
Cop humor.
Need it to stay sane sometimes. Now is one of those damn times.
“And for the love of God, if anyone sees my nonna shouting about Italian men, no matter where you are, please promise her that I’m going to confession tomorrow and I’ll apologize to God for having a dangerous job that will mean I’m a zitella for the rest of my life.”
Bekah giggles in the corner. “No one in their right mind is stupid enough to do that.”
I pause in the doorway then incline my head in agreement. “Get to work, y’all, or I’m cutting your wages.”
“Ruthless,” Drake laughs from behind me.
“Dog-eat-dog world,” I mutter. “Lemme grab my purse.”
I dart up the stairs and grab my purse from the desk. Then I lock the door behind me. Pausing when I notice some scratches by the lock, I frown, but I shake it off pretty quickly. It’s more common for me to hit the handle with the key than it is the lock the first time, especially after a sugar high.
Speaking of a sugar high…
“Y’all owe me cupcakes!” I shout, leaving the building. I stop and shove the door open again. “Without charging for gas money, you goddamned cheapskates!”
Laughter follows me down the path to Drake’s cruiser. Assholes. They should know better.
Good news is I’ll be in Austin later, which means I can buy Gigi’s. And so is Dean. Which means he can buy Gigi’s, too.
I really need to get ahold of someone there and get them to open a small store in Holly Woods simply for my convenience. I’d probably keep them in business single-handedly.