“Anybody with brown hair and brown eyes who’s around thirty,” Al reminded her.
“Boy, that sure narrows it down! Add to that the fact that anybody can dye their hair and get different colored contacts—or switch from male to female, for that matter—and I don’t think we’ll have any trouble picking him out of a crowd.”
Al and Will laughed at her disgusted expression, then Al grew serious.
“Do me a favor, will you, Dillon?”
“What’s that?”
“Go a little easier on these guys. We don’t know when we might be talking to the one we want. I don’t like the idea of you making them squirm the way you did Cochran and maybe making yourself a target in the process.”
Will looked surprised. He turned to Jen, his concern evident.
“Al’s right,” he said. “Often serial killers focus in on a cop assigned to their case or a reporter covering it.”
“I’ve got a job to do,” she said, “and I’m going to do it. Besides, if I attract the killer’s attention, maybe that will make him easier to catch.”
Will and Al glanced at one another. Jen turned away before they could look back at her and see that what she’d said was mostly false bravado. The fact was, she didn’t want the killer focused on her any more than they did.
At that moment, the conference room extension buzzed. Al picked it up.
“Sure, send him over.” He hung up and turned to them. “Ron Wilson’s here.”
“What do you want to bet,” Jen said, “that he’s got brown hair and brown eyes.”
Wilson turned out to have blond hair, blue eyes, and freckles. He had been born in the county and had spent his entire life in the city. Even if he hadn’t projected the nice-guy persona that he did, he couldn’t be Arthur Kelty. Of course, Jen reminded herself, they couldn’t take for granted that their killer was Arthur Kelty.
CHAPTER 18
Wilson was unable to tell them much about Vicki that they didn’t already know. It was obvious he had never gotten over her. How, Jen wondered, had Vicki Kaufmann passed over this man in favor of the one she married? Then she remembered her own poor judgment at that age.
When they finished with Wilson, Will and Jen both managed to hang back, fumbling with their papers, while Al escorted the man to the door of the detective section. She looked up and met Will’s eyes.
“Could I talk you into dinner?” he said, the corners of his mouth slowly curving upward in that smile that warmed her from head to toe.
Only if you’re the main course, she thought, then mentally shushed herself. Those kinds of thoughts will only get you in trouble, Dillon.
“I don’t think I’d better.” She looked down at the pile of reports in her hands. “I need to spend some time with Brandon.”
“I’d be more than happy to buy him dinner, too,” Will said. “In fact, I’d like very much to meet him.”
She looked at him critically. He looked like he was telling the truth, but some men pretended interest in a child in order to get what they wanted from a woman. Her instincts told her that wasn’t the case with Will, but then, could instincts be trusted?
“You might at some point,” she said, “but I’d still like to take a rain check.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “I won’t push. But I won’t give up.”
“I don’t want you to.” The words popped out before she could stop herself. For a second, she seriously considered biting off her traitorous tongue.
They stared into one another’s eyes and then he took a step toward her. Jen’s body—as traitorous as her tongue—took a step toward him on legs that felt like rubber.
“I guess that about does it for today.” Al blustered into the conference room. “Not much else we can do for now. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not getting any guilty vibes from any of these guys we’ve talked to. I hate these kinds of cases.”
A guilty look passed over Will’s face. For just a moment he looked like a teenager who’d been caught in the back seat of a car with his pants down. He grinned at her, and she grinned back.
“What?” Al looked from one to the other. “What’s so funny?”
“Not a thing,” Jen said.
“Who said anything was funny?” Will assumed an innocent expression.
“If you don’t want to let me in on the joke, fine.” Al shrugged, pretending indifference. “So, do either of you comedians have any ideas on what we should do next?”
Jen was amazed at Al’s obtuseness. He was a good detective, able to intuit when a suspect was lying, but he seemed clueless to what had passed between Will and her. She was glad it was him and not Lonnie who’d walked into the conference rom. He would have picked up on the vibes immediately.
“I might see if Jamie will go to The Factory with me tomorrow night,” Jen said, trying out the idea on the two of them for the first time. “Will and I stopped there in an official capacity. What I’d like to do is go back with another woman and mingle. See who, if anybody, crawls out from under a rock.”
“Do you think that’s safe?”
Jen could see from the expression on Will’s face that he’d spoken before he’d thought. Now concern for her safety was mixed with concern about how she was going to react to his protectiveness. It was nice that he realized he’d stepped out of line, but still, she was irritated.
“It’s a public place,” she said. “I think Jamie and I can handle the danger.”
The last was said with more than a little sarcasm, and Al winced.
“Uh-oh, Anderson, now you’ve gone and done it.”
“I didn’t mean you couldn’t handle it.” Will tried to smooth over his faux pas, but Jen wasn’t having it.
“I know what you meant,” she said, “and I don’t appreciate it.”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting to what I
