“I can see that. I bet you’d suffocate if you were stuck inside all day, wearing a suit and tie.”
He looked down at me and smiled, his dimples showing again. “Poppy Maysen, I think you’ve figured me out.”
My heart thumped a bit harder. “Not quite.”
“Give it time.”
I’d try. Minute by minute.
“Any questions?”
Matt closed the task force file I’d just laid on his desk. “No. This is all pretty straightforward. I’ll get to work on this right now.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate you digging right in.”
He grinned. “Just glad to be a part of the task force.”
I clapped him on the shoulder before going back to my desk. I’d recruited Matt to join my drug task force after I’d taken James Maysen’s murder case away from Simmons.
Just as I’d suspected, the work Simmons had done to investigate the liquor store murder had been shit. Witness statements were thin, photographs of the crime scene were lacking detail, and the video footage from the area’s security cameras had been reviewed by a rookie who was no longer on the force. Surprise, fucking surprise, they hadn’t found a lead to track down Jamie’s killer.
Five years later, there wasn’t anything I could do about the witness statements and photographs, so my plan was to use the video footage in hopes I’d stumble on a lead. Maybe, if I was lucky, I’d find something Simmons had overlooked.
My desk phone rang, echoing in the quiet bull pen. I wasn’t surprised when Chief of Police flashed on the caller ID—no one ever called me on my desk phone except Dad.
“Goodman,” I answered, just in case it was Dad’s assistant.
“Got a few minutes to talk?” Dad asked.
I checked my watch. “Yeah, but I’ve got to be out of here in fifteen.”
I was leaving early today so I could meet Poppy at the restaurant at two, then head to the fair. That would give us a few hours to hit the rides before the Friday-night crowd got thick and the lines got long.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Come on up.”
Hanging up the phone, I dug my truck keys and wallet out of my desk drawer.
“Summoned by the man upstairs?” Matt teased.
“Story of my life.” I grinned. “See you Monday. Have a good weekend.”
“You too.”
I waved good-bye to Matt and a few other guys in the bull pen before taking the stairs two at a time to the fourth floor. When I got to the landing, I sidestepped a couple people passing by. Even on a Friday afternoon, Dad’s office was busy. I had no idea how he got a damn thing done with people always rushing in and out of meetings.
Meetings. The idea of spending five days a week in back-to-back meetings made my skin crawl. I’d suffocate in a suit and tie, just like Poppy had guessed.
It had been almost two weeks since our walk in the park and I’d been anxious for today ever since. We’d both been busy with work and I’d only seen her once these last couple weeks when I’d stopped by the restaurant for lunch with Matt and a few other guys on the force. I’d waved and introduced her to the guys, but she’d been busy so I hadn’t stayed long.
But today it was just the two of us and there was no way I’d be late.
I checked my watch again as I walked down the hallway to the corner office. Dad always asked for just a few minutes but then I’d be up here for an hour. That was not happening on my day with Poppy. Dad had thirteen minutes and not a second more.
When I reached his corner, I nodded to his assistant but didn’t stop to say hello—she was talking into her headset anyway. In all the years she’d worked for Dad, I’d probably only said twenty words to the woman, so I just walked through Dad’s open door. “Hi.”
He stood from the minifridge, holding up a bottle of water. “Hi. Want one?”
“Nah. I’m good. What’s up?”
He sat in his desk chair. “Take a seat.”
Shit. This was going to take longer than thirteen—now twelve—minutes.
“I can’t stay long. Really, Dad. I have to leave at quarter ’til.”
He nodded as he swallowed a drink of water. “This won’t take long. I just want an update on the Maysen-Hastings murder.”
I frowned. This was one of Dad’s conditions for pulling strings with my boss and transferring the case from Simmons last month. Dad wanted to be “fully informed.” I was learning that keeping him fully informed felt damn close to being micromanaged. But since I wasn’t leaving this office until he had an update, I sat on the edge of his wooden guest chair and leaned my elbows on my knees.
“No changes to my theory since my last update. I still think the killer hid out in the shopping complex somewhere and then snuck out hours later.”
The liquor store where Jamie Maysen and the cashier, Kennedy Hastings, had been killed was part of a grocery store complex. Either the killer had ducked into one of the smaller shops by the liquor store or he’d made it into the grocery store through a loading dock. Regardless, none of the witnesses or cameras had caught sight of him after the shots had been fired, which meant he’d probably been hiding in an employee area not monitored on video.
“This whole thing pisses me off,” Dad said after another gulp of water. “We had responders on the scene within minutes after shots were fired. How’d we miss him?”
I shrugged. “Damn if I know, but somehow he got away. I’m guessing he hid out for a couple of hours and laid low. Then he waltzed out of the complex like just another customer. He probably strolled past the crime scene tape and right into a car.”
Slippery bastard. The liquor store’s camera had caught the suspect killing the cashier and Jamie, then nothing, according to Simmons’s case file.
Having a rookie review the video feeds was probably
