She stuffed a strand of brown hair beneath her cap. “Something else I can help you with, Detective?”
“You said you had regulars here.” He whipped out the picture of Marissa. “Was she one of them?”
The manager gave the picture a hard look. “I don’t think so. Pretty girl. Can I keep it?”
“The picture?”
“I want to show the staff. They’d know the regulars more than I would.”
“Sure, you can keep it. You have my card. Let me know if anyone recognizes her.”
Jake returned to the table outside and dropped into the uncomfortable metal chair. “That was a big nothing. She didn’t recognize her, but I let her keep the picture and she’s going to show the staff.”
“Something might come of it.” Kyra checked her phone. “I have an appointment. I’m also going to be talking to Marissa’s friends later in a group chat. If anything comes up from that, I’ll let you know. I’ll definitely ask them about any connections Marissa had to this area.”
“Thanks for your help with Rachel, and thanks for the coffee.”
“I think you’re right about her. She has good instincts and a calm demeanor. She’d work out great on Dispatch.”
“I usually am right about people...most people.” He stuffed the files back into his bag, wondering how many of them Kyra had gone through while he was inside. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car—in case you find any more cards?”
“I’m parked across the street, and with the number of cameras on this street I doubt I’ll find any cards by my car.” She stood up and tugged at her slim skirt, which hit just above the knees of her long legs. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”
“Sure you will.” He hitched the satchel over his shoulder and gave her a little salute. “Until next time.”
She put on her sunglasses and nodded. Picking up his cup, she asked, “Done? There’s a trash can on my way.”
“Go for it.” He watched her walk away, the sun glinting in the ponytail swaying against her back, which matched the gentle sway of her hips in the pencil skirt.
If Jennifer Lake possessed half the grace of her daughter, it’s not surprising she thought she could make it in Hollywood.
Jake turned and strode back to his car on the other side of the street from Kyra’s, keeping an eye on her as she walked. He stopped when she reached her car.
She disappeared for a second on the passenger side of the car and then popped up, waving her empty hands.
Grinning, he gave her a thumbs-up and proceeded to his own car. At least she knew he didn’t trust her.
That sort of eased his conscience over what he planned to do next.
A FEW HOURS LATER, Jake logged off his laptop and snapped the lid. Matt Dugan had made it easy for Jake to find him because he was a dirtbag with a record a mile long—and he still lived in LA.
Billy swept into the task force headquarters, tossed a balled-up bag into the trash and called out, “Baller.”
Jake snapped his fingers in the air. “Hey, baller, any luck tracking down which Uncommon Grounds Marissa’s coffee cup came from?”
Billy pulled up a chair and collapsed in it, stretching his legs in front of him. “They don’t track those serial numbers like that. Cups and other inventory travel between the stores so even if that cup was delivered to one store, there’s nothing that says it stopped there and didn’t travel to another store in the area.”
“Gotcha.” Jake rubbed his eyes. “Still no ID on the Malibu fire victim.”
“Nope, and the alibi checked out for Kelsey’s boyfriend, not that he was ever a prime candidate.” Billy drew in his legs to make room for Jake. “You heading out?”
“Checking on a few leads.”
“Mind if I sit these out?” Billy massaged the back of his neck. “I’ve got a headache coming on.”
“Didn’t expect you to join me.” Jake swung his bag at his desk drawer. “I’ve got some ibuprofen in there if you need it.”
“I’ve got my own stash. Hey, you’re not going to see our task force therapist, are you?”
“No, I told you I saw her earlier when Rachel Blackburn needed some help.”
“And did you happen to ask her about her friend, the TV reporter, for me?”
“What are you, in middle school? If you want to ask her out, do it. Do you need her friend to send her a note letting her know you like her?”
“A little introduction to smooth the way never hurt. You need to venture away from your blow-up doll now and then to see how it works in the real world.”
A few cops laughed as Jake threw a pen at Billy. He didn’t have a blow-up doll, but it had been a while since he’d had a real date. He’d dipped a toe in the online dating scene but had heard too many stories about scams and misrepresentations to be comfortable in that world.
Besides, who wanted to date a guy with trust issues?
Armed with information from Matt Dugan’s parole officer about his last known residence, Jake got behind the wheel of his Crown Vic and plugged the address into his GPS.
He knew the area, the shady side of Van Nuys.
The only problem with a sneak attack was that Dugan might not be home, but Jake didn’t want to give him a chance to concoct some story—or to contact Kyra.
Once off the freeway, Jake tooled down Van Nuys Boulevard, past the car dealerships, the free clinics, the methadone treatment centers, the churches and the working girls getting a jump on the competition. His GPS directed him to turn left at the next light.
After his turn, he slowed to crawl along the block, stucco apartment buildings in various hues standing rainbow sentry on either side of the street. He spotted Dugan’s place, a
