Amy watched them go, saluting Sullivan behind his back.
Keep the door locked. Does he think I’m stupid?
After clicking the latch into place, she went into the kitchen and put on the coffee pot; it was late, but her mind was buzzing. Coffee and wine relaxed her, and she wasn’t in the mood for the latter. While the machine whirred, she kicked off her shoes, opened the patio doors and stepped out on to the balcony. The evening was still warm and humid. Leaning on the railing, she watched as Sullivan and Huckleberry crossed the road and disappeared into the park.
Amy wasn’t sure what it was about the man that was getting under her skin. Normally she was laid-back and it took a lot to get a rise out of her. Sullivan seemed to manage it with little effort.
Perhaps it’s because he never believes you.
Or maybe it was something else.
Pondering the question, Amy’s glance wandered a little further up the street to the figure standing at the edge of the trees, watching her apartment. With a start she stepped back from the balcony railing, her skin going cold.
Was it him, the guy who had followed her? Did he know where she lived?
Quickly she stepped inside her apartment and locked the patio doors.
9
‘You look like hell.’
Jake scowled at Rebecca’s observation as he walked into the precinct. ‘I had a late night.’
‘Yeah?’
He narrowed his eyes at her suggestive tone. ‘Not in that way.’
She pushed one of the two Starbucks cups she held in his direction. ‘Good job I got you one of these, then.’
‘Thanks.’ Jake took the cup gratefully.
After the call from Amy, he’d managed to snatch about two hours’ sleep, dozing through his alarm and having only enough time to shower, dress and let Roxy out for a quick pee, so coffee had been out, and he and Rebecca had both learned a long time ago to avoid the acidic stuff sold in the vending machine at work.
‘I bet my night can top yours,’ Rebecca told him as he sipped the strong coffee. He noticed the slight frown on her face.
‘Alan?’
Most of Rebecca’s irritations tended to be directed at her dull boyfriend. Jake had lost count of the times he had questioned the point of their relationship. These days he mostly let her rant and tuned out.
‘Not exactly. More like a pain in the ass from my past and it spells trouble for our investigation.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You remember the case I was involved in when I was a rookie? The one where…’ She trailed off, staring past Jake at the door, her frown intensifying.
‘Morning, Angell.’
Jake turned at the cocksure voice, took a glance at the owner: a guy of about his own age, dark suit, unruly hair, slightly smug grin. The pain in the ass? He’d put money on it.
The man came to a halt beside Rebecca, helped himself to the coffee in her hand, took a large mouthful and almost choked, spitting it straight back in the cup.
Nice.
‘Jeez, Angell, how much sugar did you put in this thing?’ Ignoring the fuming look she gave him; he turned his attention to Jake. ‘Sullivan, right?’
Jake shook the offered hand guardedly, while Rebecca looked on, seriously pissed off.
‘I worked a case with your old partner, Frank Logan, down in Atlanta last year. Heard good things about you.’
Heard good things. Jake wondered briefly if his previous partner would’ve shared the same sentiment and quickly quashed the thought.
‘Logan’s a good cop,’ he said instead.
The other man nodded.
‘Special Agent Joel Hickok. Good to meet you.’
Hickok.
The name was familiar and it only took a second to click into place.
The Alphabet Murders.
They had happened about six years ago. Jake had been serving with the Atlanta PD at the time, and hadn’t moved to Oregon until a couple of years later. The case had been big and he’d heard the details time and again since joining Juniper PD. Hickok had been one of the FBI agents Rebecca had worked with and, on the occasions she had mentioned his name, it had been through gritted teeth. He had never questioned why before. Now he made a mental note to ask her about it later.
‘Likewise,’ he told Hickok, playing it carefully, remembering what Rebecca had said about it spelling trouble for their investigation.
The Feds were here because of the church murder, of that there was no doubt. Jake had worked with the Bureau before on a couple of homicides back home and didn’t have a problem so long as everyone played ball. His partner’s problem was more personal. Whether it was down to plain dislike or something more, he intended to find out.
‘So, are we going to get down to business?’ Rebecca asked tartly, still looking unimpressed. ‘You said you brought your new partner, right?’
‘Good to meet you, Detective Angell.’
She whirled round, surprised by the voice behind her.
The guy holding his hand out was late twenties, Jake estimated, lanky in build and baby-faced, wearing a navy suit that swamped him, and a syrupy smile.
‘Special Agent Declan Rivers. I’ve read all about your work in the Alphabet Murders and been looking forward to meeting you.’
He pumped Rebecca’s hand enthusiastically, then Jake’s, while Hickok looked on, his expression one of pure irritation.
‘When you’ve finished your love fest, maybe we can get to work,’ he snapped.
The four of them met with Captain Krigg before heading down to the office Jake and Rebecca shared with two other detectives.
‘So, what have you got so far?’ Hickok asked, taking a seat and getting straight to the point.
They talked Hickok and Rivers through the crime scene, told them about the book found in the car and its author, Amy Gallaty.
‘So what’s your take on her?’ Hickok wanted to know. ‘You think she’s somehow involved?’
‘Not directly involved,’ Rebecca told him. ‘She was working the night of the murder.’
‘Doesn’t mean she didn’t get someone else to do it.’
‘True. My instincts say otherwise.’
‘Your instincts, eh?’ Hickok grinned.
‘Yes, Hickok, my instincts.’
‘She has a new book to promote, doesn’t she?’ This was from Rivers, who had been scribbling notes furiously as if his life depended on it, oblivious to the fact his partner and Rebecca had been sniping at each other throughout the morning.
Definitely a rookie, Jake thought.
‘The murder was taken from one of her old books,’ he pointed out to the younger Fed. ‘It wouldn’t make sense she was killing for publicity, unless it was from the new one. Amy Gallaty is involved, but she’s no killer. I think our perp specifically targeted her book, for what reason I don’t know.’
‘What makes you so sure her book wasn’t picked at random?’ Hickok asked. ‘Maybe our guy read it, liked it and decided to re-enact it.’
‘She said someone was following her last night.’
‘She did?’ Rebecca questioned, eyebrows slightly raised. ‘How come I don’t know about this?’
‘Because I haven’t had a chance to tell you until now,’ Jake said levelly. ‘She was being followed on the way home from the bar where she works, stopped off at a pizza place and called me, so I went and checked it out.’