Rachel hoisted half her body over the counter to eye the receipt Jake held in his hand.
When she slid back to her side of the counter, she pressed her hand against her heart. “Oh, my God. That’s Kelsey Lindquist, one of the copycat’s victims. You mean to tell me a killer has my phone?”
CHAPTER NINE
“I need a favor.” Kyra dangled the plastic bag containing the queen of hearts in front of Clive Stewart, the fingerprint technician.
His gaze followed the swinging bag back and forth, and his mouth hung open. “Where did you get that? I already got the queen of spades from the body last night, and I know the queen of diamonds and the queen of hearts from the other two murders are sealed away.”
“That’s why it’s a favor, Clive. It’s off-the-books. Can you just dust it for prints and let me know if there are any? If there are, I’ll go through the chain of evidence and submit it. I don’t want to raise any alarms right now over a simple playing card, especially if it has no prints on it.”
He held out his hand and she placed it on his palm, which had surprisingly few lines for a man his age. Clive’s hands looked soft, but he was a scholar not a fighter.
Crooking his finger, he said, “Follow me. I can dust it right now while you wait.”
“Thank you so much. I owe you one.” She followed his stiff back into the lab and clicked the door shut behind them.
A lot of the forensics for LAPD was done at the county, but most of the larger divisions had their own fingerprint techs and other forensic specialists. The lab at the remodeled Northeast Division boasted a blood spatter and ballistics expert, so they didn’t have to send out to county for that work.
Clive opened the bag and tipped the card onto a clean piece of paper, faceup. He dipped his brush into a container of black dust, like graphite, and shook off the excess. “You know, playing cards originally came from China, but the suits—the club, spade, diamond and heart—developed from Italian shapes, modified by the Germans and finally simplified by the French.”
Kyra compressed her lips, flattening out her smile. Clive’s brain contained a wealth of information, most of it trivial. She murmured, “That’s fascinating.”
“Don’t pretend an interest you don’t share, Kyra.” He shook out the black particles from the brush onto the playing card. “My wife does the same thing, and I can spot disinterest a mile away. I’m used to it.”
“I’m sorry. Distracted.”
“That’s all right.” Clive lodged his tongue in the corner of his mouth for the delicate work before him. He’d been at this for as long as she’d been working with the department and probably a lot longer.
He used a pair of tweezers to lift the card and hold it under a light. “Nothing on this side, not even your prints.”
“I lifted it off the ground with a pair of tongs from the kitchen and slipped it into that plastic bag. I’ve been around the block a few times.”
“Yes, you have.” He flipped the card over so that the queen was no longer staring at her. “You’re a therapist. What made you work with the police department?”
She watched as Clive repeated the process with the black powder on the flip side of the playing card. “I—I had a friend who was murdered in college. Her death affected us, affected me, so much I changed my major from pre-nursing to psychology. I did an internship with a therapist who worked with police officers, and my career just kind of took off from there.”
“Very impressive.” He eyed the card under a magnifying glass and sighed. “I’m afraid there are no prints on this card.”
“Okay, that’s fine. I’m sure this was just a coincidence. I mean there are lots of decks of cards floating around, aren’t there?” She picked up the plastic bag and blew a puff of air into it to open it. “You can drop it back in here. I really appreciate your help, Clive. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”
“I can’t imagine anything, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Lunch, coffee.” She drilled her finger into her chest. “I’m your girl.”
He slid the card, blackened with fingerprint dust, back into the baggie. “I just ask that you don’t spread it around that I’m available to do work under the radar...because I’m usually not.”
“I won’t.” She traced her fingertip across the seam of her lips. “My lips are sealed.”
They exited the lab together, and Clive pulled the door tight until he heard the lock click. He nodded in her direction. “See you later.”
Clive took off down the hallway, his narrow shoulders set, his head tilted slightly to one side, the light above gleaming off his bald pate.
Clive’s ready acquiescence to dust the card for prints surprised her, but he was nearing retirement and seemed a little less buttoned-up than usual.
She careened around the corner and nearly crashed into a solid mass of...man. “Oh, sorry.”
Jake placed a hand on her waist to steady her and then dropped it as his eyebrows lowered. “Slow down. It’s not like you’re running out to a call or something.”
Kyra folded her arms and stuffed the baggie into her purse. “Heard you got a trace on the phone.”
“Heard you left with a reporter last night.” He propped one broad shoulder against the wall, blocking her escape. Escape? Did she really want to escape Jake’s presence? Not once she’d secured the queen of hearts in her purse.
“That’s true. Megan Wright. She’s my friend. I know you don’t have any of those, but they’re people you like and associate with and even do things for. You might try one sometime.” She shook her finger at him. “I hear they even reduce stress.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Believe it or not, I actually have a few of those.”
“Coworkers and criminals don’t
