The word “relax” was not as appealing to her as he might have thought. “A writer needs to write,” she told him. “As a matter of fact, my editor said she would be interested in seeing an article from me about what it feels like to be stalked by someone I know is looking to kill me.”
His smile faded. “I think that’s a bad idea,” he told her flatly. “That’s like waving a red flag in front of a charging bull.”
“Well, right now, according to you, there might not actually be a charging bull, remember?”
“That’s just one theory,” he told her. “And all things considered, I don’t think it’s all that smart to tempt fate.”
He could see that stubborn look in her eyes. “Are you telling me that you don’t want me to write the article?” Krys asked him.
Morgan knew if he said he didn’t want her doing it, that would accomplish the exact opposite. So, although it killed him, he said, “No, I’m just asking you to be careful and to think about what you’re doing—before you do it.”
“All right,” she said, “I’ll think about it.” She said the right words, but he doubted that she really meant them. He knew her well enough by now to realize that when she wanted to do something, she went right ahead and did it. He had to find some way to get her to refrain from doing this insane piece.
“Look, since Walker is out on medical leave,” he said, referring to one of the members of his team, “why don’t you stay here and use his desk to write that article—once you think over the pros and cons?”
Morgan made it sound as if she was actually going to consider whether or not to write the article, even though they both knew that in the end, she was going to do it.
She looked at the empty desk. “Wouldn’t someone frown on me doing that now that it looks like the case might be wrapped up? Like maybe the head of the Major Crimes Division?” she suggested. Having her here had been acceptable while the case was ongoing, but now that Jacobs’s supposed reason for killing her had been eliminated and the other major suspect was dead, there was no longer a reason to keep such a close eye on her.
“Don’t worry about it. The lieutenant is a pretty easygoing guy. He’ll be okay with it,” Morgan told her. “You just sit there and do your thing.”
Krys cocked an eyebrow and looked at him. “My ‘thing,’ huh?”
He caught the inflection in her voice. “You know, I get the feeling that you’re spoiling for a fight.”
Krys realized that maybe she had sounded a bit defensive. “I’m just frustrated, that’s all,” she told him. Every theory so far had fallen through, and every path had wound up being a dead end. “I don’t like not getting answers.”
“You get used to that,” he said philosophically, thinking of his own work. “A lot of life doesn’t have answers.”
That might be true, but she had never allowed it to stop her. “I usually keep after something until I can find some sort of an answer—or wind up wrapping that ‘something’ up.”
Just then the phone on Morgan’s desk rang. He looked as if he was going to ignore it and continue to try to talk some sense into her.
“Better get that,” she told him. “It might be another case. One with an actual resolution going for it,” she said, waving her hand at the phone as it rang again.
Morgan shot her a dubious look. He would have preferred making her his primary—and only—focus until he either actually resolved the case once and for all, or was convinced that there was no longer anything to resolve. But he knew he didn’t have that luxury. He had to get back to his job, and his job was solving cases, sometimes juggling several open ones at a time.
“Cavanaugh,” he announced into the receiver, then turned his chair away from Krys so he could talk to whoever was calling privately.
She needed to get back to work, Krys thought. Maybe she could focus on another article for the time being. Agonizing over the unresolved details of these two previous cases was going to drive her crazy. There was something else she had been meaning to write about, she remembered—now that there was no one actively trying to run her over with their car or shoot her.
She just needed to focus—
Krys felt her cell phone vibrating in her pocket. Glancing toward Morgan, she saw that he was still busy talking to whoever had called him. Covertly, she pulled the cell phone out of her pocket and glanced down at the screen. There was a name and number on it she didn’t recognize.
Miranda Wilson.
Most likely it was a robocall. When it rang for a third time, she decided to take it. But not here in the squad room. The noise level would necessitate that she raise her voice, and that would direct Morgan’s attention over to her.
Krys slowly rose from her desk. She saw that the simple movement had caught Fredericks’s eye, but Morgan still had his back to her.
An ounce of prevention, she thought. “If he asks,” she said to Morgan’s partner, “tell him I went to the ladies’ room.”
Hiding her cell phone, Krys moved swiftly and left the squad room.
The second she was in the hall, she took out her cell phone and held it up to her ear. “Are you still there?” she asked the caller.
A quiet woman’s voice answered her. “Yes, I’m still here.”
“Hold on a second longer while I
