As the doors closed on Dugan, Jake fished a card from his pocket and handed it to the officer. “Let me know if he comes back like Lazarus. I’d really like to get my info from him.”
“Will do.”
The clutch of looky-loos began to scatter as Jake made his way back to his car. When he got behind the wheel, he clenched it, along with his jaw. What the hell had just happened?
How had Kyra known about his meeting with Dugan? Had her former foster brother called to warn her? Maybe he threatened to blackmail her, and she came out here to pay up before Jake got there.
How had she paid him? In drugs? What was she doing over his body? Why hadn’t she called 911? She must’ve been waiting a long time for Dugan to exit her life. If he’d been stalking her and could be paid off to terrorize her with those cards, she wouldn’t shed any tears over his death. But being happy someone was out of the picture was a far cry from helping him along.
He released the steering wheel and rolled his shoulders. Then he retrieved his cell phone and called Kyra.
It rang once before her husky voice poured into his ear. “Is he alive?”
“He looked like it when they loaded him in the ambulance.”
She let out a breath. “He always did have problems with drugs.”
“We need to meet. I wanna know what you were doing there.”
“I’m waiting for you now.”
“Where?”
“In front of your house.”
Great. Had he ever given her his address? The woman probably had access to a lot more information than he could dream of. “Wait there. I’m on my way.”
He negotiated his way back to the freeway, which was a lot less crowded than on his journey to see Dugan. In less than forty minutes, he was turning off Sunset and snaking his way to his oasis.
He pulled into the drive that led to his house and jammed on his brakes when he saw the unmarked LAPD detective car in front of his place. When Kyra stuck one long leg out of the car, he murmured. “Son of a...”
He slammed his car door and locked it. Couldn’t be too careful around her.
“Did you steal that car from the station?”
She glanced behind her as if she’d forgotten how she got here. “Borrowed. I’ll return it tonight.”
“They’ll have you on camera.”
She shrugged. “Only if someone’s looking for it. Nobody will be looking for it. The detective in Juvenile brings in his own car.”
“You know just enough to be dangerous.” He stalked past her to his front porch. “How’d you find out where I live?”
Her eyes widened. “You told me.”
“I didn’t give you my address. There are a lot of homes in the Hollywood Hills.”
“Billy told me.”
“How’d you...?” He turned at the front door, gripping the door handle. “Never mind.”
He pushed open the door and stood aside, gesturing her across the threshold with a sweep of his arm.
The gesture was wasted on her. She stood on the porch, eyes closed, nostrils flared. “It’s beautiful here. Peaceful. You don’t even feel like you’re in the city.”
It was peaceful. “I call it my oasis.”
Her eyelids flew open, and she stepped past him into the entryway. How did she still manage to smell like roses and sunlight after a long day of work, stealing a police vehicle and finding a dying man?
He pointed to the most uncomfortable chair in the house. “Sit and start talking.”
She saw through the ruse and sank onto the sofa, the soft leather whispering beneath her weight. “Can I have something to drink first? I’m parched. Water is okay.”
He dropped his bag by the front door and marched into the kitchen. He got her the water and grabbed a bottle of beer for himself, although he had a feeling he needed to be the clearheaded one here.
She took the glass from him with a thanks and downed half of it before he’d even sat down in the chair across from her.
Just like in any interrogation, he didn’t want her getting too comfortable. “How did you know about my meeting with Dugan?”
“Did he call you first?” She skimmed her long, delicate fingers along the outside of the glass. “No, he’d never call a cop. You contacted him first. Why?”
He took a gulp of beer to tamp down his anger, knowing full well alcohol was no answer to fury. “That’s not how this works. Answer my question.”
A little smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I saw his text on your phone at the station. I recognized the sender—Mike’s Bike Shop. I know that’s where Matt worked...works. I’d just mentioned Matt to you last night, so I didn’t think it was some coincidence. Quinn told me there are no coincidences.”
Damn Roger Quinn. Did he realize he’d created a monster?
“I did one better than just contact Dugan—I met the lowlife this afternoon.”
A flare of petty pleasure burned in his belly when he saw the smile fall from her lips and her cheeks pale.
“You met with Matt today?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to know if he was the one who planted those cards for you.”
“And was he?”
“Yes.”
She dropped her chin to her chest and tapped the tips of her fingers together. “I see. It doesn’t surprise me. So, why the follow-up meeting?”
“When he sent me that text, he promised to tell me who paid him to leave the cards.”
Her head jerked up. “Someone paid him to do it?”
“That’s what he said in his text.” Jake lifted one shoulder. “If he doesn’t come out of his overdose, we’ll never know.”
“Let me guess.” She swirled her water in the glass. “He was going to tell you for a price.”
“Of course.”
“He could’ve been lying to you.”
“Maybe. Hopefully, I’ll find out.” She opened her mouth and he raised his finger. “My turn. How’d you know the time and place of our meeting? You may have seen the
