“Will do. Go eat.”
Jake listened to one more voice mail, this one from Rachel Blackburn.
“Hello, Detective McAllister. I just wanted to know if you saw my application come through for dispatcher. I—I just had coffee with Kyra, and she told me it was okay for me to check with you.”
Jake sent Rachel a text, indicating he’d seen her app and flagged it for Personnel.
Then he cranked on the engine with the intent to take Billy’s advice, and headed to an all-night diner not too far from his place.
As he sat at the Formica table in a booth to himself, he placed his phone in front of him. He had one more voice mail, which he’d been avoiding. After he ordered some meat loaf, he tapped the final voice mail from the hospital where Matt Dugan lay in a coma.
He listened to the news of Dugan’s passing and gulped down some water. Should he tell Kyra now? She’d seemed almost sad about Dugan’s condition, but she’d be relieved he wouldn’t be around to make her life hell anymore...or to tell her secrets.
Molly, who’d been working at this diner for the past twenty years, placed his food in front of him. “I had the cook get you an extra slice of meat loaf, J-Mac. You look like you could use it.”
“Thanks, Molly.” He dug into the closest thing he’d had to a home-cooked meal in weeks, savoring every bite until his phone buzzed again.
He glanced at the text from Billy, who must be pouring on the cologne in anticipation of his hot date by now. He wiped his hands on a napkin and tapped his phone.
He read the text aloud to no one. “Coffee cup from Uncommon Grounds in Gracie’s car.”
Jake’s fingertips buzzed as he opened the attachment. He studied the photo of the inside of Gracie’s car, which had been left on the street near the house of a friend she was supposed to visit the night she was murdered. The coffee cup sat in the cup holder, a smear of pink lipstick on the lid.
With a pulse throbbing in his temple, Jake dug into the bag he’d brought into the diner with him and stashed on the seat beside him. He pulled out a blank sheet of paper and smacked it down on the tabletop next to his empty plate.
As he’d done many times before, he wrote three names across the top—Marissa, Kelsey and Gracie. They still had no ID on the first victim or a car, but he knew Billy would die trying to give that woman a name. Beneath Marissa’s name, he wrote that she had a coffee cup from Uncommon Grounds in her car and worked near Studio City. Under Kelsey’s name, he wrote that she’d frequented Melrose Boulevard where an Uncommon Grounds was located. Now, under Gracie’s name he could add that she worked in Studio City and had a cup from Uncommon Grounds in her car.
The coffee place could link all three women, although they couldn’t be sure Kelsey went to Uncommon Grounds on Melrose. Same coffeehouse but two different locations—West Hollywood and Studio City. That wasn’t much of a link.
He tugged on his ear. How had he known about Uncommon Grounds in Studio City? He scrambled in his bag for the altered sketch of Sunny’s client and dragged it out, placing it next to his scribbled chart of the three victims.
His nostrils flared with the shot of adrenaline that rushed through his body. He’d known about Uncommon Grounds in Studio City because a barista in West Hollywood had told him about it.
The barista who’d worked in both places and had an uncanny resemblance to the composite sketch.
“JORDY, RIGHT?” Kyra put on her most understanding therapist smile although her heart was thundering in her chest.
The fresh-faced young man glanced up from wiping the counter, his eyes taking a few seconds to focus on her. “Yes?”
“I was wondering if you could check in the back for more scones.” She tapped the glass display case of bakery goods. “It looks like you’re out, but I’m hoping you have some left. I’ll even take old ones or frozen ones, if you can heat them up.”
His features seemed to rearrange themselves on his face, as if sampling a few expressions until he found the right one—friendly, mild annoyance. “None of our items are frozen. All fresh daily.”
“Ah, that’s why they’re so yummy. Can you please check for me?”
His brown eyes shifted around the mostly empty store, which he’d been prepping for closing. “I suppose I can check.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
Jordy stashed his towel beneath the counter and made for the back.
As soon as he disappeared, Kyra dashed to the other end of the counter, the pickup area, and hoisted herself across the counter to grab the cup Jordy had been sipping from for the past ten minutes.
What if he saw his sketch in circulation and took off? She could at least grab a sample of his DNA before that happened. She dropped his cup into her bag, which she’d left gaping open and slithered back to her side of the counter, landing on her tiptoes.
She turned to survey the other customers, all too busy packing up their gear, finishing their conversations and getting that last bit of work in before returning to their homes to notice her actions.
She smoothed back her hair just as Jordy returned from the back empty-handed. “Sorry. We don’t have any scones left. Can I get you something else?”
“That’s okay. Thanks for checking.” She pivoted, clutching her bag against her body and charging for the door. He’d already flipped the sign to Closed.
The nighttime air hit her hot cheeks and she walked toward her car on legs she hadn’t realized were trembling. She dipped her fingers into the side pouch of her purse for her keys, sweeping from side to side in the narrow space.
She stopped and zipped open the large compartment
