Jag tried not to laugh because it wasn’t funny. Levi and Matt had gone out on a limb for Jag more than once.
And they’d do it again, as would Jag.
“I would like to keep this as quiet as possible,” Matt said. “We don’t need the press bringing up the Trinket Killer.”
“That I’m on board with, but how are we going to do that when the Feds have been called in?”
“The agent in charge is going to be very low-key and stay in the background, but we absolutely don’t want the public to think the Trinket Killer is back,” Matt said. “How do you feel about taking a calculated risk?”
“I’ve been doing that my entire career. Why would I stop now?”
“Good.” Matt slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure the press will be out here eventually. Mind telling them we’ve got a person of interest that we’re talking to?”
“Do we?” Jag arched a brow. It wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened. “Because if we’re going to play the I’m just the local small-town cop, and you’re the big badass city slicker, and you’re going to go do shit behind my—”
“Relax, Jag. I know how personal this is for you, and I wouldn’t dream of doing that to you.” Matt glanced in the direction where Jenna and Hanson stood. “We have a series of dating murders, and our killer only communicates with us when we get something wrong. We’re so close to catching him, and if I link this to him, he might contact me. In the meantime, that gets people like Bailey off your back while you dig to your heart’s content and hopefully turn over something that will finally, after fucking years, give us a goddamned answer on this one.”
“Do what you need to.”
“All right. I’ve got to get back to the mainland. I’ll be in touch.”
Jag stood at the edge of the woods with his hands on his hips and stared at the fog slinking through the air, hiding the morning sun, leaving a misty dew on the grass.
Now all he had to do was tell Callie he would investigate with her.
Chapter 11
Callie sat behind Jag’s desk in his home office and flipped through the mood ring victim files for the eighth time. In all the time she’d been dating Jag, and they pretended to investigate together, they had always kept each other at a safe distance.
He actually had to because of his job.
Her job required her to do whatever it took to get the story, including beg, borrow, steal, or lie.
And she did.
Which is what, in part, destroyed their relationship.
Something she had to come to terms with. Of course, he did his share of sabotaging their future, but right now, he was taking measures to rebuild.
While she was still backpedaling.
“You look like your mind is turning something over,” Jag said.
“No. That’s my stomach telling me to vomit.” She swallowed the tiny bit of bile that kept bubbling up her throat. “If your theory is correct, then the first kill is always violent. The one yesterday at the glamping site while horrific, wasn’t that brutal.”
“I know. I thought about that too.” Jag sat in a leather chair across the room with his feet up on a footstool while he tossed a tiny football up in the air. He used to do that when he’d been deep in thought, working a case that was making him lose sleep.
And last night, if he’d gotten more than three hours, it would have been a miracle.
A tap at the door startled her and she jumped, knocking over one of the files.
Ziggy opened the door and set a tray of food on the table by the door. “I’m heading back to Seattle. I’ll see you two later.”
“Thanks, sis,” Jag said as he blew her a kiss. “Say hello to Mom and Dad. Tell them I’ll call them later.”
“Please tell me you’re going to come tonight,” Ziggy said.
“I don’t know.” Jag continued to toss the football. “I’m a little swamped right now.”
“You’re off duty, technically until tomorrow morning at eight,” Ziggy said.
“I’m never off duty as chief,” Jag said. “And I just don’t know that I’m in a family dinner kind of mood. Besides, I don’t want to leave—”
“She’s still considered family.” She pointed at Callie. “So bring her.”
“Oh no.” Callie lifted one of the home-baked cookies off the tray and took a bite. It was still warm. Best damn cookies she’d ever had. “Last time I saw your dad, he gave me the famous Bowie look of disappointment. It still haunts me.”
Ziggy clutched her chest. “If you don’t come, he might hunt you down just to give you the look, which you really haven’t seen yet. That was just his sad, please don’t go look.”
“He saves that for Darcie,” Jag said. “Did I tell you she’s living on a sailboat now?”
“That I didn’t know,” Callie said. “But it doesn’t surprise me. Darcie has always had a love for the sea. I’m actually shocked she’s not living the Yachtie lifestyle.”
“She’s close.” Ziggy laughed. “So, I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’ll both be there for dinner.” With that, Ziggy closed the door.
“You should go have dinner with your family,” Callie said.
“If I go, you’re coming with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why? Other than Ziggy, they all hate me for the way I left.”
He shook his head. “They resent me for not chasing after you.”
She stared at him for a long moment, holding his intense gaze. She’d dated him for months before he told his family. For the most part, they’d all been accepting of her and willing to keep their relationship quiet. Once he caught the Trinket Killer, then they’d be able to slowly let the world know about their love.
“If I go without you, they will think I’m being a dick as usual.”
“God forbid anyone think badly of you,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, though it was impossible
