“I don’t need to look at the files to know it’s not The Player operating again on the streets of LA.” Quinn’s sparse lashes flew open. “Why would he start up again? I always had the theory that he stopped because of all the advancements in law enforcement—DNA primarily, but CCTV, cell phones... You young guys have it easy.”
“What about the theory that he’s been locked up all this time?”
“Even more reason for him not to come out of retirement. If he’s been in prison for twenty years it’s on a felony, and his DNA will be in CODIS now. He’s even more at risk today of getting caught than when he was active.”
“So, copycat?”
“Most likely.”
“I get the playing card, but you guys kept the finger trophies a secret. How would a random copycat know about the fingers?” Jake hunched forward, his forearms on his knees.
“You know how that goes, Jake.” Quinn spread his hands. “These things get out, despite our best efforts. You have a task force now, not your first. Cops talk. Their wives talk. The victims’ families talk—even when you ask them not to. You can’t blame them.”
“Anything we should be looking out for?”
“You’re asking me? I failed.” Quinn picked up the teacup and stared into the brown liquid, looking for answers.
“That time, but you never failed before. We still study your cases and methods at the academy.”
Quinn laughed, a rusty bark that seemed to startle some birds outside his window. “Are you buttering me up, Jake? I didn’t think you were that kind of cop.”
Detective Roger Quinn knew what kind of cop he was? “I’m not. I’m stating a fact. If you don’t want to help out, that’s okay. Hell, if I were in your shoes, I don’t know that I’d want to dip my toes back into the muck.”
“The muck. That it is.”
A knock at the door caused Jake’s elbow to slip off his knee, and he cranked his head around. Quinn was supposed to be a recluse. “Do you want me to get that?”
“I can get my own damned door.” Quinn used a cane at the side of the chair to push himself up and then left it behind as he took measured steps to the front door.
Jake’s body tensed as Quinn opened the door without even asking who was there or looking out the window.
A woman’s voice, low and lilting, filtered into the house on a breeze. “Hello, Quinn. I brought food.”
As Jake half rose from the love seat, his brain ping-ponging in different directions, Kyra swept into the room, a plastic bag swinging from her fingers.
He growled. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She tripped to a stop, the bag swaying back and forth. “Oh, it’s you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Kyra pasted a smile on her face, a pleasant mask to conceal her emotions. She’d done it a million times. Why hadn’t Quinn warned her he’d be having a visitor...and this visitor in particular?
She shot Quinn a look over her shoulder. She couldn’t put her finger to her lips, but she could wink—and she did.
Jake jumped to his feet, his gaze darting between her and Quinn, a flush staining his throat. He couldn’t blame that on the heat, not in the cool confines of Quinn’s house, a breeze from the water stirring the white curtains at the front window.
“Didn’t mean to overreact.” Jake coughed. “You surprised me. I didn’t realize you knew Detective Quinn.”
Quinn erupted into that hacking laugh of his and slammed the door. “Face it, Jake. You thought Kyra had followed you over here to horn in on your territory.”
“I was worried you’d think the two of us were trying to ambush you or something.” Jake shrugged.
“The hell you were.” Quinn patted Kyra on the back and nudged the bag with his knee. “Smells like fish and chips from the pub.”
“It is.” Kyra lifted the plastic bag. “I didn’t know you had company or I would’ve picked up another order.”
“That’s okay. I was just leaving. We were finished.” Jake skirted around the love seat and planted his shoes on the wood floor in a wide stance.
“No, we weren’t. I know you had more questions, and since Kyra’s on your task force there’s no reason we can’t discuss this together.” Quinn snatched the bag of food from her hand. “Besides, that place always gives you way more fish and chips than you can eat. We’ll share.”
Jake narrowed his eyes as they shifted between her and Quinn. He obviously suspected a setup. “How’d you know Kyra was on the task force?”
“I still have my sources, J-Mac.” Quinn raised a finger, his lips twitching.
Kyra curled her hand around the loop of the bag. “Oh, no, you don’t. Sit down, and I’ll get you a plate of food.”
“Only if you grab a couple of those IPAs in the fridge.”
“Did Dr. Wong okay you for beer?”
“I don’t need Dr. Wong’s approval to live my life.” Quinn relinquished his hold on the plastic bag and sank into his recliner. “Jake can help you.”
To her surprise, Jake joined her in Quinn’s small kitchen, his large presence dwarfing everything even more. She’d figured two strong, obstinate personalities like Jake’s and Quinn’s would butt heads; instead, Jake showed a gentle deference to the older man that granted him a few more notches in her estimation of him.
She grabbed three plates from the cupboard as Jake reached into the bag for the containers of food.
He turned from the counter, and she almost plowed into him with the plates. She clutched them to her chest. “It’s a little crowded in here.”
Jake folded his arms, wedging his fists into his bunching biceps. He’d lost the tie, and a dusting of dark hair peeked from the V of his open shirt collar. “How do
