He let out a gurgle, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “We got some good leads this morning. I wish... Where were you today?”
Had he been about to say he wished she’d been there? Progress. “Leads from the phone call?”
“Yeah, we have security videos to review in about an hour. The stores are sending them over.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I think I owe you a lunch. I can fill you in.”
“You mean the lunch you promised to drop on my desk in a brown paper bag at the office?”
“Did I mention a brown paper bag?” He pushed off the wall and jingled his car keys. “I mean a real lunch in a real restaurant, away from the station.”
“Let’s do it. You’re going to have to get back here to watch that footage before you prep for the task force meeting. Four o’clock, right?” She took a step past him, and he swung in next to her.
“A lot of updates today but no ID on the victim from last night.” He pushed open the door for her and held it as she walked through.
The man had his odd moments of chivalry. He even opened the door of his Crown Vic for her. He slammed it and circled around to the driver’s side. As he got behind the wheel, he asked, “Any preferences?”
“Just no cop hangouts, even if they do give you the discount.”
“The last place I want to go with you is a cop hangout.” He cranked on the engine and the AC blasted her face.
She nudged the vent in his direction. “You don’t want other cops to see you talking to me?”
“Would just prefer an opportunity to talk without getting interrupted every few minutes.” He dialed down the air conditioning as he pulled out of the station’s parking lot. “Looks like they’ve got that Malibu fire under control, although it did overtake the body dump site.”
“So, the killer’s fears were realized, after all. He must be resting easy now that he gets credit for his third victim.” She clenched her jaw.
“First victim.”
“What?” She jerked her head toward Jake. “What makes you think the woman last night was his first?”
“He made the rookie error of hiding her body too well so that she couldn’t be found, or at least not found for several weeks or months. Also, the, um, decomposition of the body. I won’t go into that before lunch.”
“You don’t have to. I get it.” Her stomach still gurgled, and she didn’t think it was from hunger.
Jake drove just a few blocks from the station and pulled into a strip mall. “There’s a good Vietnamese pho place here, and if that doesn’t interest you, there’s pizza and a taco place.”
“Pho sounds good. Not too hot for you on a warm day?”
“As long as the AC’s on, I can handle it.” He swung his car into a spot in front of a dry cleaner, and Kyra hopped out. When Jake opened the door of the restaurant, a rush of spicy smells made her mouth water.
“Hope you weren’t expecting something fancy. You order at the counter and they’ll bring your food to your table.”
“That’s most restaurants I go to.” She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and grabbed a laminated menu to study while they waited for the man in front of them asking a million questions.
After they both ordered, Jake placed their number on a table by the window while she filled up a paper cup with diet soda. Her blood fizzed as much as the soda. She couldn’t wait to hear how the case was progressing, and she was getting a preview ahead of the rest of the task force—all for the price of some fish and chips last night, and Quinn vouching for her. All LAPD detectives revered the legendary Roger Quinn. Jake had proved to be no different, and her association with Quinn had given her status in Jake’s eyes.
He returned with his own drink from the self-serve fountain machine and pulled out the plastic chair across from her. His large frame dwarfed the chair and the table.
He’d rolled up the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt, and the tail end of some ink crept onto his forearm. It looked like a snake or a tail and she wouldn’t mind getting a look at the rest of it, but she averted her gaze to the tip of her straw and sucked down some soda.
“I heard the phone he called from wasn’t a burner.”
“You get right to the point.” He folded his hands on the table; instead of being a prissy gesture as it would be for most men, it only emphasized his strength and masculinity as the veins popped over his corded forearms. “Info has a way of leaking, doesn’t it?”
“But you never know if it’s true or purely speculation and rumor.”
“That particular piece of data is true.” As the waitress approached the table to deliver their bowls of steaming pho, Jake moved their cups and silverware to make room.
The server placed the bowls in front of them and put down a silver tray containing little dishes of jalapeño, cilantro, bean sprouts and other ingredients to spice up the soup.
“After you.” Jake nudged the tray toward her, and the little dishes trembled.
Using her fork, she added a few more ingredients to her pho, the steam from the bowl already making her sniff. “You haven’t led me astray here, have you? I’m not going to take one spoonful of this pho and run screaming for the exit with steam coming from my ears, am I?”
He raised his eyebrows as he dropped a jalapeño into his soup. “For some reason, I thought you were a native Angeleno. Am I wrong? If not and you’re like me, you were weaned on spicy food.”
She did not want this conversation turning personal. She stirred her soup and slurped a sip from the large spoon. “Perfect.”
“Glad you like it. You can always add more chili oil, if you like,” he said,
