M.C. had decided to get someone out to question Valerie, ASAP. She hadn’t needed to tell Kitt she wanted to make certain Joe didn’t have the opportunity to give his fiancee a heads-up-and a chance to lie for him. Nor had she needed to tell Kitt that if Valerie Martin didn’t corroborate, she would recommend an arrest.
In the end, M.C. had decided to call on Valerie herself. She had taken Detective White with her, leaving Kitt to oversee Joe’s meeting with his lawyer. Kitt supposed that displayed trust. Or not, thanks to the trusty video camera.
Kitt was acutely aware of how Joe’s being a suspect had reversed their positions on the case. M.C. was calling the shots now. Though it was as it should be, Kitt couldn’t quite quell her feeling of resentment toward the other woman. M.C. would be certain the shadow of impropriety didn’t fall over her.
Kitt glanced at her watch, wondering what was happening. If Valerie didn’t confirm Joe’s story about their spending the night of the ninth together, Joe was going to be in some very deep shit. Either way, M.C. would go for a search warrant. And Kitt didn’t see a problem with a judge granting it-even with the alibi, they had probable cause.
Joe’s lawyer hadn’t arrived yet. While she waited, she’d decided to review the transcripts of her calls from “Peanut.” She scanned the first of the recorded calls, noting the way he put words together, his choice of words.
Joe didn’t talk like this. Yes, a voice changer could alter a person’s voice. But not the way they spoke.
She narrowed her eyes, considering the content next. He had known about Derrick Todd. How? He had claimed omnipotence. Had opened their conversation with a comment about her chasing her tail.
Could “Peanut” be a cop?
It would make sense. Her history wasn’t a secret around the force. Someone nosing around asking the right questions would learn some damn personal stuff about her.
And, clearly, the SAK had understood crime-scene investigation. He had left the scenes nearly pristine; it had always seemed as if he knew what their next step would be.
Of course, it wasn’t unusual for a serial killer to be a crime-or law-enforcement buff. Some had even been known to listen to police scanners.
She switched to the second transcript. More generic. He had taunted her about the balloon. And about her mood.
“After all I’ve done for you,” he’d said.
“And what would that be? The wild-goose chase you sent me on? Thanks.”
“It may have seemed that way to you. You have to have faith.”
Have faith. In him? In the clue he had given her? Or both?
“Kitt?” She turned. Sal stood in the doorway, expression grim. “My office.”
She stood and followed him. “Close the door, please,” he said when they were inside. “Update me.”
“As I’m sure you’re aware, M.C. brought Joe in for questioning. He’s requested a lawyer. He claims an alibi for the night of the ninth. M.C.’s checking that out now.”
“I want you out of this. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir. And if the lawyer arrives before M.C. returns-”
“Sergeant Haas or I will sit in.” His expression softened. “I’m sorry, Kitt.”
“For taking me off the case?” The bitter edge in her voice didn’t surprise her. The sudden lump in her throat did.
“No, for the reason I’m taking you off the case.”
“He’s not involved, Sal.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. And not just because of my personal relationship with him.”
For a long moment, he held her gaze. Then he nodded slightly, as if in acknowledgment of her feelings. “If Joe’s cleared, you’re back in charge. I have zero choice in this.”
“Understood.” She turned and walked to the door. There, she stopped and looked back. “Request permission to follow up on evidence unrelated to Joe. Specifically to go through the contents of the storage locker.”
“Seems like a good use of your time. And, Kitt, for what it’s worth, I hope you’re right about Joe.”
She thanked him and returned to her desk. She gazed at the transcript, feeling suddenly lost. In need of a friend.
Brian, she thought. If anyone would understand, it’d be him.
Kitt headed for his office. When she reached it, she found the door closed. She lifted her hand to knock on his door, then froze as she heard M.C.’s voice. “Enough! Stop following me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. I saw you roll by my house the other night. You were tailing me earlier that same night. I don’t want to have to go to the chief with this.”
“I bet you don’t.” Brian snickered. “Don’t want anyone to know you slept your way into the VCB.”
Kitt heard M.C.’s sharply drawn breath. “That’s a lie, you prick.”
“You know how fast news travels in the RPD. Speed of light, babe.”
Clearly the two had had a sexual relationship. When? Had Brian used his influence to get M.C. assigned to the Violent Crimes Bureau?
“Try it,” M.C. said, “and you’ll regret it, I promise you that.”
“Are you threatening me, Detective?”
“Whatever you want to call it. Back off.”
The last was delivered in a voice akin to a growl. Kitt dropped her hand and took a step backward. She had heard enough. Her respect for both colleagues had plummeted.
She took another step; Brian’s door flew open. M.C. stormed out, stopping short when she saw her.
“Kitt!” she exclaimed, face red. “What a coincidence, I was just coming to find you.” She glanced toward Brian’s door, then back at Kitt. “Joe’s alibi checked out.”
“I thought it would.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not guilty.”
“You’re getting a search warrant.”
It wasn’t a question; she answered, anyway. “Yes. Should have it within the hour.”
“Sal took me off the case. Temporarily.” M.C. nodded. Obviously, if she hadn’t already known, she had expected it. “I’ll keep you posted on our progress.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Kitt watched her go, then tapped on Brian’s door casing. He was on the phone; he waved her in.
“So call me,” he said. “I miss you. Okay?”
He hung up, the picture of misery.
“What’s up, Brian? You look like you lost your best friend.”
“Ivy and I have split up. Her idea.”
Brian was a good cop and had been a wonderful partner and friend. But no way would she want to be married to the man. He had a serious case of Peter Pan syndrome.
“Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”
He dragged his hands through his hair. Kitt saw that they shook. She noticed how much of his red mane had been replaced by gray. When the heck had that happened?
“I wish. This time I…I think she means it.”
Because of an affair with the much younger M.C.? Or something-someone-else?
He jumped to his feet, visibly shaking off his mood. “That partner of yours was just in here.”
Kitt cocked an eyebrow at his choice of words. “I saw that.”
“She told me about Joe.”
Did she? Odd. “What did she say, exactly?”
“That he was a suspect. A good suspect. And that you’re off the case.”
“Temporarily,” she corrected. “Until Joe’s cleared.”
“I’m sorry, Kitt. It really sucks.”
“He’s not a part of this. I know he’s not.”
