“Who was the roommate?” Jag asked.
“I hadn’t looked that up yet.” Callie flipped to the front of the report. “The police cleared her pretty quickly. She was barely a person of interest.”
“That doesn’t sit right with my stomach,” Jag said. “Most people find their friend like that, they’re not going to run away.”
“Not everyone is cool under pressure.”
“That’s not being cool. That’s being human,” Jag said.
“Holy shit.” Callie tapped her finger on the piece of paper. “Read that name out loud, because I think I’m seeing things.”
“Carol Armstrong,” Jag said. “Any relation to Leslie Armstrong?”
“I don’t know. But you have quicker access to birth records and whatnot than I do,” she said, twisting her body and handing him the laptop. She batted her eyelashes and tilted her head. “And while you’re at it, find out where she might be now.”
“As if you had to use that ploy to get me to find out that answer.” He leaned over and smacked her lips with a wet kiss. “Give me a few minutes.”
While he went about finding out about Carol Armstrong, she started making copies of important parts of different files. With different colored pencils, she made notes on each one, tacking them up on the board and drawing arrows to any potential connections they’d made between the victims.
Which were nearly none.
Only the Mood Ring Killer victims knew each other.
And two random victims of the Trinket Killers had a connection because they crossed paths working out at the same gym.
But one was killed holding a gold dolphin.
The other a silver one.
And they barely knew each other, just took the same spinning class on occasion.
But that meant the killer might have done the same.
“Motherfucker,” Jag said. “Carol Armstrong is indeed the daughter of Leslie and John Armstrong. I’m shocked this didn’t get red-flagged or that Matt or especially Levi didn’t know about it.”
“Well, they might have a few years on you, but I’m not sure either of them were on the force that year. Matt might have been a senior in high school.”
“True,” Jag said. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re always the smartest person in the room?”
She laughed. “You used to tell me the complete opposite.”
“I was jealous.”
“Of course. I’m awesome,” she said. Her skin heated, and her heart swelled. It had been a long time since she felt this at ease with Jag. Actually, she wasn’t sure discussing an investigation had ever been quite like this. “But that’s because right now I’m working with the best.”
“Oh, babe, flattery will so get you whatever you want tonight,” he said with a wicked grin. “So, it looks like Leslie and John got a divorce when Carol was in grade school. The last known address for Carol Armstrong is college. She seems to disappear after that, and I can’t find a marriage license. I do have a current address for her father, so let’s pay him a visit tomorrow.”
“As in us?”
“Absolutely. We’ll do it right after I’m officially off duty.”
“What if I do it while you’re working?”
He stood, heaving her to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist, splaying his hands over the small of her back. “I don’t want you going anywhere alone. I don’t trust that this killer doesn’t have a thing for you.”
“You keep saying that, but other than my body type, which there are lots of women who—”
He hushed her with his mouth. “Last year, I tried to show you I loved you by being a Neanderthal and telling you what you can or can’t do. I won’t do that now, though I’m not going to give you his address.”
She cocked her head. “That’s pretty much telling me what to do.”
“We both have learned to trust our gut instincts over the years. This killer has been waiting for something to happen to start killing again. Now, you had nothing to do with the start of the last cycle, but your sister finished it, and you showed up in Seattle, and we have a dead body. And not on the mainland. On my island.”
“You can stop now. I get it,” she said as a chill climbed up her body. No matter how much she wanted to deny she couldn’t have anything to do with what was happening, her conscious wouldn’t allow it. Everything he said was spot on. “I’ll wait until you get off work.”
“Thank you.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back.
“Why are you doing all this? Sharing all this with me when we both know damn well you shouldn’t be.”
“If I tell you the truth, you have to promise you won’t toss anything at me.”
“I promise,” she said with narrowed eyes. She couldn’t imagine what he might say that would piss her off so much she’d want to cause him bodily harm.
Then again, he did have a way of finding her Achilles’ heel and slicing through it with a razor-sharp knife.
“Because you’re not going to report on it. You’re not going to use it to get ratings. You’re not going to go behind my back and use police information that we’re keeping from the public to better your career.”
For about five seconds, rage seared her heart. It burned through her bloodstream, reaching every part of her body, but it was quickly doused with a cold dose of reality.
Because he was right.
She’d been a ruthless reporter, willing to toss her own boyfriend under the bus if that meant getting the story first. She’d used him and the information he’d been kind enough to feed her during any investigation.
And all she’d done was shit on him.
“Oh, Jag, I’m so sorry.”
He jerked his
