Sympathy warred with my infamous competitive streak. “You can’t keep this secret forever.”
“I can keep it secret for now. I need you to back off.”
I couldn’t do that. As bad as I felt for him, this story kept getting more interesting. “Did Cal kill the Santas?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who killed Cal?”
“I don’t know that either. This entire thing is a huge mess. You need to stay out of it.”
Rather than agree — or disagree for that matter — I changed the subject. “What’s your next move?”
“I don’t know. We’re trying to figure things out. The only thing I’m certain of is that these people are dangerous. The body count keeps growing. It would be best for all concerned if your body wasn’t added to the mix.”
On that we could agree. Still, this was too big to ignore. The answers were out there. I had to figure out how best to uncover them.
22 Twenty-Two
My dreams were dark, leaving me to wake restless ... and a little sweaty. Eliot was already up and at it before I rolled out of bed. I found him in the kitchen mixing pancake batter, his eyes on the television. He obviously hadn’t heard me because he didn’t look in my direction.
My heart gave a little sigh at the sight of him. He wore only boxer shorts, and he appeared perfectly at ease. He was the only guy I knew who could look tough while making pancake batter.
“Are you having dirty thoughts?”
The question jolted me back to reality. I couldn’t help but smile when he turned to me.
“How did you know I was here?” I was honestly curious. “Did you hear me?”
“You have a certain presence.”
“Morning musk?”
“Evil.” He laughed as I frowned. “I sensed you were there watching me. Did I wake you? I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer.”
“You didn’t wake me. I just ... woke.” I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the microwave door and frowned at what I saw. My hair stood on end, signifying a rough night, and there were circles under my eyes. “How can you wake up looking like a male model and I wake up looking like the woman who should be cleaning the male model’s house?”
“Clean living?”
“Ha, ha.” I sidled closer to him and peered into the mixing bowl. “Where are the blueberries?”
“I was debating between them and chocolate chips.”
“Go with the blueberries.”
He seemed surprised. “I’ve never known you to turn down chocolate.”
“I know, but chocolate chips don’t belong in pancakes. They belong in cookies. If you want to make some of those, too, I won’t complain.”
“If I make cookies, will you expect me to wander around in an apron for the rest of our lives? I’m not sure I can live with that.”
I knew what point he was trying to make ... and I didn’t like it. “Or I could just go to McDonald’s and get that steak bagel thing and you can do whatever you want for breakfast.”
He grinned. “Get the blueberries out of the freezer.”
I made a face. “We don’t have fresh blueberries?” That was a bummer.
“You know as well as I do that blueberries are terrible this time of year. If you’re dead set against the chocolate chips, we have to go with what’s available.”
“Fine.” I trudged to the freezer and yanked it open. “It feels as if the world is already out to get me today.”
“That’s because you have a persecution complex.” He went back to watching the television. “Channel 4 is starting to make noise about the dead Santas. They want to know why the names haven’t been released.”
I followed his gaze, scowling when I saw Devon on the screen. “What’s she babbling about?”
“She’s saying the sheriff’s department still refuses to release information, pointing out that it’s unlike Jake to not play nice with the media. She’s also insinuating that maybe there’s more to the story that they’re hiding.”
“I would want to kick her hard for infringing on my story but getting the television stations involved with this can only help at this point. If the pressure mounts, Jake will have to start doling out information.”
Eliot’s expression was serious. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but maybe you should give Jake a break.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to hear it,” I agreed.
“He’s working under a tremendous amount of pressure — and I don’t just mean from this case. He’s still coming to grips with my proposal to you.”
“He says he’s fine with that.”
“It’s still a lot to deal with.”
“I can’t worry about that.” I didn’t want to be a hardass — no, really — but I had a job to do. “I have to follow my instincts, and they say it’s important to chase this story.”
“Avery ....”
I shook my head before he could get up a full head of steam. “It’s not just a bunch of dead drug dealers and a possibly-murdered hero … who could turn out to be a zero. This drug is highly addictive – and can kill. People have to know what to look out for.”
Eliot rolled his eyes. “Since when are you interested in ending the scourge of drugs?”
“Since always.”
He shook his head. “I know you can’t give this up. I’m not asking you to. I simply prefer you gave Jake a break. You know as well as I do that he’s likely blaming himself for the death of one of his own.
“Even if this cop turned bad, Jake will blame himself,” he continued. “He’ll rationalize that this never would’ve happened if he hadn’t assigned him.”
I suddenly felt very tired and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and disappear inside a book for the rest of the day. Anything was better than grappling with the real world right now. “I don’t want to make things harder for him, but this is a huge story. It’s going to break whether he likes it or not.”
“And you think you’re the one
