Kyra squinted at the signs. “She really wants to meet at a hot dog stand?”
“She’s not going to give us her address.” Jake jabbed his finger at the windshield. “There it is.”
“And not even an illegal parking spot available in front.”
“I have other tricks up my sleeve.” He wheeled the sedan around and pulled into a parking lot that charged five bucks per half hour. He flashed his badge at the parking attendant, who then waved him behind a couple of cars.
“That’s—” he turned off the engine “—how it’s done.”
They walked the half block to the hot dog stand and staked out a table outside under a pink umbrella. She must’ve been waiting for them because it didn’t take Sunny long to spring up from behind a building, her high heels wobbling on the sidewalk as she sashayed toward them.
She definitely had the walk down, but otherwise she could’ve passed for the girl next door with her slim figure and Bambi eyes. Must’ve been how Kyra’s own mother marketed herself.
Kyra twisted her fingers in her lap and put on a smile for the woman. She had her reasons for doing what she was doing. Kyra was long past judgment.
Jake, ever the gentleman even in the most questionable of circumstances, stood up at her approach. “Sunny?”
Sunny brushed her long hair from her face, lightly made up for daytime. For all Kyra knew, Sunny could morph into a different persona at night.
“Yeah, I’m Sunny. You Detective McAllister?”
“That’s right.” He pulled out a plastic chair. “Have a seat.”
“Who’s she?” Sunny aimed a short pink-tipped fingernail at Kyra.
“She’s a victims’ rights advocate. She’s working with me on the case.”
“Good.” Sunny dragged the chair back and squirmed into it. “Because I’m a victim here, right? Dude could’ve killed me, too.”
“Why don’t you start from the beginning.” Jake pulled out a notebook. “Tell me how you met him, what he said, how he looked. If this seems credible, I’ll get you down to the station to meet with a sketch artist.”
“Credible? You mean like believable?” Sunny tapped one finger on the table. “This is the real deal.”
“So, how did you meet this guy and what time?” Jake held his pen poised over the paper.
“Wait. Can I at least get lunch out of this?”
“Sure.” He pocketed his notepad. “What would you like?”
“Get me the Hollywood Dog and a lemonade.”
“Kyra?” Jake raised his eyebrows at her.
“Same.”
He rose from the table and got in line behind two tourists in shorts, clutching maps to the stars’ homes.
Sunny narrowed her brown eyes. “He’s fine. Probably doesn’t have to pay for it, but sometimes that doesn’t matter, you know?”
Kyra nodded.
“You’d be surprised at who comes knocking at my door.” Sunny held up her fingers and began ticking off the various professions of men who found themselves in need of her services. She’d just gotten to politicians when Jake returned to the table with three dogs and three drinks.
The Hollywood Dog boasted chili, raw onions and corn chips, and Sunny sank her white teeth into the end of the whole mess.
A few more bites and several napkins later, she got down to business. “Okay, this happened the night before last. I was working my corner when this man approached me for, you know, a good time.”
“What time?”
“After midnight. I usually work until two when the bars close.”
“What did he look like?”
“Average height. I’m about five foot eight with my heels on, and he was a little taller than me. Average weight, not buff or anything.” She eyed Jake’s shoulders, her gaze slipping to his strong forearms resting on the table.
“Hair?”
“Longish. Below his ears.” Sunny drew a line across her neck. “But shaved up on one side. Brown. Brown eyes. Glasses. No facial hair.”
“Did you see a car?”
“He approached me on foot. Wanted the full package, so I took him to one of the motel rooms we use.”
Jake hunched forward. “Do you remember which one?”
“Before you get all excited, because I know what you’re after, he didn’t leave any prints in that room because he was wearing gloves.”
Kyra blurted out, “Gloves? It had to be over seventy degrees the other night.”
“I know, right?” Sunny spread her hands. “That was the first weirdo thing.”
“What were the rest of the weirdo things?” Jake slurped down some of his drink.
“He wanted me to lie still with my hands at my sides. He didn’t want me touching him.” She shrugged. “Hey, less work for me, right? He also put his hand around my neck. Lotta guys do that.”
Kyra had to put down her hot dog and swallow fast as the food turned to ashes in her mouth. That alone should terrify Sunny.
“Then he started calling me Gracie. Gracie this. Gracie that.”
Jake glanced at Kyra. “Do you remember what he said to Gracie?”
“Not really. Mumbling pathetic things like, how do you like me now, Gracie? Stuff like that. Like he was getting something over on her.” Sunny popped the last of her hot dog in her mouth and brushed her hands together. “Couldn’t end fast enough for me. He paid with cash and left. Didn’t think about him again until this afternoon when I heard the name of one of those victims of The Copycat Player—Gracie. Freaked me out. I mean it’s not a common name, am I right?”
“You’re right.” Jake slipped Sunny his card. “Can you come to the station to sit down with an artist? We’d like to get this sketch out as soon as possible.”
“Really?” Sunny toyed with her rings. “Nobody’s gonna know it’s me, right?”
Jake raised two fingers. “Complete anonymity.”
“Then I’ll do it. Can you give me a ride?”
“One more thing.” Jake crumpled the waxy yellow paper from his hot dog and lobbed it into a trash can. “You said he didn’t leave prints in the room because he wore gloves. Did he leave his...DNA anywhere?”
“His DNA?” Sunny rolled her eyes. “You mean his—”
Jake cut in. “Exactly.”
“You know—” Sunny tapped her nails on the plastic table “—now that you mention it,
