As several squad cars flooded the area, illuminating the sky with their revolving red-and-blue lights, Jake curled a hand around her waist, burying his face in her hair.
“Kyra! Are you all right? Tell me you’re all right.” He smoothed a rough hand down her throat.
She swallowed and mumbled, “He drugged me, but I’m fine. He didn’t cut me.”
Jake must’ve understood her because he gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips against her temple. “Thank God, you’re safe. I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d reacted too slowly.”
Several cops rushed in, weapons drawn, but Kyra had eyes for only one cop. As she rested her head against his shoulder, she said, “You were just in time.”
EPILOGUE
“Kyra said one beer, Quinn.”
The gruff detective snorted. “Just because she solved her first murder case, she thinks she can boss us around.”
Kyra placed a bottle of beer in front of Quinn. “If I hadn’t gotten ahead of myself and had just left Uncommon Grounds without playing amateur sleuth and called Jake about my suspicions, which he already had, maybe the task force could’ve arrested Jordy Lee Cannon without fanfare and gotten some answers out of him.”
Jake grabbed the plates of fish and chips and brought them to the coffee table. “I don’t know what we could’ve gotten out of him. We know how he met his victims—at Uncommon Grounds in West Hollywood and Studio City. They weren’t alarmed when he approached them because they knew him from the coffee place or he looked vaguely familiar to them. He plunged a needle into their necks to disable them, got them in his car where he finished them off by strangulation and then dumped their bodies. He maybe tried to throw us off by mimicking The Player’s MO, and he took a piece of jewelry for a trophy—we found all the items in his room at his mother’s house.”
“But not the fingers.” Quinn picked up a fry, considered it and popped it into his mouth.
Jake chewed the inside of his mouth. “Maybe he never wanted the fingers as trophies. He just took them to copy The Player and got rid of them.”
“To catching the bad guy.” Kyra held up her beer, and Jake and Quinn toasted with her, clinking the necks of their bottles.
She said, “He sure seemed upset about breaking rule number four.”
Quinn raised his shaggy eyebrows and Jake said, “We think rule number four was not knowing your victim. Jordy figured he was following rule number four because he didn’t really know these women. We wouldn’t have been able to find out about Jordy by tracing the victims’ friends or family. But he knew he’d broken that rule because he didn’t choose random victims. He chose women he knew through Uncommon Grounds.”
Kyra shook some vinegar over her fish and chips. “I didn’t realize serial killers had sets of rules.”
“Of course they do.” Quinn glanced at Jake. “Did you find his rules or anything like that when you searched his mother’s house?”
“Nope. He must’ve had them in his head. I wonder what the other rules encompassed.”
“Obviously, not leaving prints or DNA. He wore gloves and he didn’t sexually assault his victims.” Quinn shook his head. “A careful killer...just like The Player.”
Kyra hunched her shoulders. “I’m just glad you found Jordy’s car so fast when you got to Melrose.”
“His manager told me where he parked. When Rachel mentioned that the two of you had met for coffee that night and then you left that message about finding something, I got a sinking feeling in my gut. I’m just glad I got there on time. I’d shoot that guy all over again and damn his interview or any lies he could tell us.”
Kyra gave him a look from beneath her lashes that made him glad all over again.
She brushed her fingers together. “At least Billy ID’d the first victim, so we didn’t need Jordy’s help with that.”
“Why did that take so long?” Quinn crunched into a piece of battered fish.
“Shelby Shipton was from out of town. She’d pulled up stakes in Idaho and came out to LA to make a new life and pursue her dreams.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” Quinn reached over and grabbed Kyra’s hand. “I heard about Matt Dugan’s death. Are you okay?”
Kyra shifted her gaze from Quinn to Jake and back to Quinn’s face again. “I—I was sorry to hear about Matt. He took a bad road a long time ago, so it’s not surprising.”
Quinn squeezed Kyra’s fingers in his gnarled ones. “He won’t bother you anymore.”
She sniffed and took a gulp of beer.
Was the sadness feigned? Jake knew all too well you could mourn the loss of someone you didn’t like.
They finished their food, and he helped Kyra clean up the kitchen while Quinn watched TV. The old detective had gotten a supreme sense of satisfaction when they caught The Copycat Player—must’ve been almost as good as solving the original. Almost.
Kyra wiped her hands on a dish towel and snapped him with it. “Do you want to go outside and watch the sunset from the bridge?”
“Sounds good.” He called into the living room. “Quinn, you wanna go out with us?”
Quinn waved his hand. “You two go. I’m watching my show. I like to laugh at all the stupid things these detectives do—and the public really believes things work that way.”
Kyra poked Jake in the side. “You should watch a great movie called Shots Fired, Quinn. True to life.”
Jake rolled his eyes. She’d never let him forget that...and he hoped she’d keep on reminding him.
With a last glance at Quinn, Kyra opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.
Jake inhaled the scent of the ocean. “It’s pretty out here.”
“Not quite like Venice, Italy, but not like LA, either.”
When they got to the bridge, they sat down, dangling their legs over the water. Jake slipped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. They
