Jag wrapped his thick arms around her body and kissed her shoulder. “Please, babe. Take the pictures down. You’ll feel better, trust me.”
“Be honest with me, Jag. Do you really think this is wrapped up with the perfect bow?”
“Wanton admitted it. He knew things.” Jag let out a long breath. “What’s still bothering you?”
“The lack of trinkets. Where are they?”
“What?” Jag smacked his forehead. “He leaves them with the body; he doesn’t collect them. Why are we still having this conversation?”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that a killer who leaves dolphin trinkets behind, who bought out an entire store, doesn’t have any in his home or car or office?”
“Maybe a little. But DNA doesn’t lie,” Jag said.
Callie couldn’t argue that point.
Detective Jagar Bowie of the Seattle Police Department followed the young officer through the woods. A faint layer of thin fog floated in the beams of flashlights. He glanced at the sky. The moon and the stars danced behind a layer of clouds, trying to shine their light on the scene below.
“A group of teenagers found the body when they were looking for a place to party,” the officer said. “They freaked out and ran to the parking lot where they called 9-1-1.”
“Where are they now?” Jag asked.
The officer pointed to a clearing about a quarter mile from the sound in Seward Park. Levi Crawford huddled with another detective and one of the CSI techs. He gave a slight nod.
“We moved them away from the media. How the hell did Callie and her camera crew get here so fast?” the officer asked.
“She’s a shark.” Jag couldn’t say it was because she was sleeping in his bed. Besides, that was only part of the reason. Ever since Adam Wanton had been released on a technicality two days ago, she was on the warpath.
At least she’d finally come around to the idea that he was the killer since the murders had stopped once Adam had been locked up.
But now that he was out, Callie was just sitting around and waiting for Adam to strike again so she could rip the police a new asshole for how they’d botched the DNA evidence. He nearly choked on his thoughts. DNA didn’t lie, but when you didn’t follow protocol, the proof got tossed, and then you had no fucking case, and a killer got to walk free.
He wasn’t the one who’d bungled the evidence, but it was his case, but he had screwed up the arrest, and the buck stopped with him.
“She doesn’t like cops,” the officer said as Levi made his way toward Jag.
He’d thought that about her as well until he got to know her better. “That’s really not true. She just gets frustrated with the system. And right now, I can’t blame her.” Of course, when they first started sleeping together, it had been just that.
Sex.
And really good sex.
But slowly it developed into something he’d never experienced before. They decided to keep their relationship to themselves, simply because it was so new to both of them.
“You’re defending Callie?” Levi stepped in front of him and stretched out his hand. “Since when? You can’t stand that snake.”
Jag turned. Callie’s news van was parked as close as the barricade would allow. He could barely see her silhouette through the trees. Once you got past her tough exterior, there was a really wonderful woman underneath. She had a big heart; she just kept it guarded. He could understand that. “Right now, I’m pretty annoyed with how our system works, especially because I assume you’re going to tell me that our victim blond, a professional, and is holding a cheap dolphin trinket in her right hand.”
“You’re right. I am.” Levi was new to homicide but not to being a detective.
“Fuck,” Jag mumbled.
“She’s over here.” Levi pointed to where the medical examiner and his team had laid out a body bag and gurney.
“Any identifying marks? Or anything we can use to find out who she is?”
“We’re running her prints. But she has a tattoo on her wrist. It’s an infinity shape with the words sisters forever weaved into it.”
Oh fuck. How many women had tattoos like that? He suspected not many. Jag sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He did it five times, each time clearing his mind a little more. Seeing a dead body never got any easier. It never got different.
And he never became numb to it.
Seeing a friend murdered sent him down a road he’d never navigated.
He swallowed as Callie came into view, her face turned the other way.
Careful not to disturb any potential evidence, Jag circled the body, slowing as he approached the head. Her thick blond hair partially obscured her face. He knelt down and gasped. “No, no, no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Shit.” He stood. “Damn it.”
“What is it?” Levi asked.
“I know her.” Tears stung the back of his eyes. He pushed air out of his lungs and tried to take a deep breath. “Her name is Stephanie Dixon. She’s Callie’s—the reporter from Channel 5—sister.”
“Motherfucker,” Levi said. “I didn’t know she had a sister. How do you know she has a sister?”
“Long story.” Jag leaned against a tree. “Does anyone have eyes on Adam?”
Levi shook his head. “Do you think Adam knew Callie had a sister and targeted her?”
“I don’t know, but that puts Callie in his crosshairs. Not to mention, she meets his criteria.” Jag rubbed the side of his face. “Before this gets out of hand, I should go get Callie.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“She’ll never forgive me if I don’t.” Jag pushed himself from the tree.
“Why would you care? She hates you.”
Jag chuckled. “You know how you’ve been busting my balls about having a secret girlfriend for the last two months?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Well, not only did I go and get a girlfriend, I got myself engaged a few hours ago.” He paused for
