Deep Dark (8 page)

Her eyes simmered. He'd offended her, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Investigations weren't a two-way street, and she needed to wise up to that fact.

She shook her head and looked away.

“That's the way it is, Laney.”

“I get it.”

“It's nothing personal.”

She watched him coolly and seemed to be waiting for his next move. It was a conversational chess game. He was a skilled interrogator, so skilled it felt almost unfair now. She acted so guarded, and she didn't realize what she'd already told him. In the time it took her to finish one beer, he'd learned that she had a daddy complex that probably made her insecure in relationships. He'd bet she was fiercely loyal to her mother, too. And slow to get close to people, especially men.

And then he felt bad psychoanalyzing her as she sat there watching him with that frustrated look in her eyes. She shook her head and glanced away. Every time
she started to open up to him, he did something to piss her off.

“Laney?”

“What?”

“It's my job to ask questions. To push.”

She looked at him again, and her expression softened. “No, you're right.” She glanced down at her bottle and picked at the label. “I'm glad she has you.”

“Who has me?”

“April. You seem . . .” She paused, like she was searching for the right word. “Committed.”

He didn't answer. It wasn't really a question, but the way she looked at him gave him the feeling she wanted a response.

She drained her beer and plunked down the bottle. “I should get home.” She stood up.

Reed stood, too. He left a tip on the table and followed her through the throng of people. The bar was packed, and the music had gotten louder since they'd first walked in.

They stepped into the warm, muggy air. It was dusk now, and a neon Lone Star Light sign cast a blue-and-red glow over the sidewalk. As they walked in silence, he thought of what she'd said about her job being meaningful. It was refreshing. Maybe he'd been a cop too long, but he didn't know anyone who talked about things being
meaningful
anymore. If they thought about work in those terms, they kept it to themselves.

Maybe he was jaded.

No, he definitely was jaded. But it had more to do with his failed marriage than anything he'd seen on the job. Laney had gotten in a little psychoanalyzing of her own on that one.

Reed spotted her white car and felt a twinge of regret. He'd enjoyed talking to her, enjoyed being near her. And he couldn't remember the last time that had happened with a woman. Having a beer with Laney had been the highlight of his crap week. Hell, of his month.

She looked around. “Where are you parked?”

“Around back.”

She gazed up at him. He couldn't read her expression. “Thanks for the drink,” she said.

“You bought it.”

He couldn't read her tone, either. The thrum of music seeped through the thin walls of the bar as they stood there in the light of the beer sign.

She stepped closer, and a jolt of heat went through him. She looked up at him with those bottomless brown eyes, and he knew he was in trouble. It was a bad idea to involve this girl. Whatever useful info she might have was outweighed by the fact that she was young and edgy, and he wanted her. And she must have seen something in his face, because her eyes sparked.

She went up on tiptoes and kissed him, pulling his face down to hers and nibbling his lower lip. Reed flinched, but he didn't pull away. Her tongue found his, and it was soft, sweet. He pulled her against him, gripping the back of her T-shirt in his hand and feeling the warmth of her body. Her fingers slid up around his neck, and he felt her nails sinking into his skin, and he was responding without even meaning to, kissing her back and pulling her in tight.

God, she was hot. Her mouth, her body. Lust surged through him, and he lingered a moment before he managed to pull away.

“What was that for?” He was still gripping her shirt, and his voice sounded husky.

She smiled. “Nothing.”

He gazed down at her and felt a spurt of panic. What the fuck was he doing?

He let her go, and she stepped back, still smiling.

“Good night, detective.”

CHAPTER 7

Laney swung into her driveway and glanced around. Everything was quiet, and her street seemed normal.

With the notable exception of the man sitting on her doorstep.

She grabbed her messenger bag and got out. She walked up her sidewalk, looking Ben over in the glow of the porch light. Disheveled hair, rumpled suit. His arms rested on his knees, and he had a tall-boy beer parked at his feet.

“Nice disappearing act,” he said, slurring the words slightly. “You took off.”

“I had to go in.”

He got to his feet. “We missed you at the wake.”

“I hate those things.”

“Everybody hates those things. That's why they get drunk.”

She stepped around him to unlock her door. She walked inside and silenced her burglar alarm as Baggins greeted her with an extra dose of feline disdain.

“What're you working on?” Ben asked, sauntering into her living room.

She set her bag and keys on the kitchen counter. “The task-force thing.”

She'd spent her afternoon helping San Antonio investigators trace the email account of a fifty-two-year-old
man who'd been posing as a high school kid and luring teen girls into sending him nude photos. It was a depressingly common scenario, but this perp had an uncommon talent for covering his tracks using anonymizers.

Ben wasn't listening. He was standing at the window now, looking at the Buddha statue on her back patio. Laney dumped some cat food into a bowl and filled another with water.

Ben turned around. “You got anything to eat?”

“No.”

“Drink?”

She opened the fridge and grabbed a pair of Shiners. As she popped the tops off, she thought of Reed. His jaw had been scratchy when she'd kissed him, and he'd smelled faintly of weed, which had surprised her.

And he was a good kisser, which hadn't surprised her at all.

Ben collapsed onto her futon and leaned his head back. Laney walked over and handed him a beer.

“You look like shit,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She sank down beside him. He propped his long legs on her coffee table and crossed his ankles. Then he closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.

“I told the police about Mix,” she said.

He opened one eye and peered at her. “What about 'em?”

“The red team.”

He frowned at her. “You think that's relevant?”

“Don't you?”

He didn't answer, and Laney sipped her beer. It tasted bitter, and she didn't really want it. She set it on the table beside Ben's shiny black shoes. She'd never
seen him dressed up before today. His suit was solid black, same as his tie. He looked like a missionary on a bender.

He closed his eyes and sighed again. “I dunno.”

“I think it is.”

He took his feet off the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She looked at his wide shoulders in the ill-fitting jacket.

“I talked to Mindy,” he said. “You know, the cops didn't find any forced entry.” He turned to look at her, and she saw that his eyes were bloodshot. “Sounds like April knew him and let him in.”

“That's a disturbing thought.”

“Not hard to believe, though, right?” He combed his hand through his hair. “I mean, she's always had shitty judgment about guys. She dated me, didn't she?” He turned away and bowed his head. His shoulders slumped.

“Hey.”

He didn't respond.

“
Hey
.”

He turned, and his gaze looked tortured now. “You know if she was seeing anyone?”

“I don't know.” Laney searched his face, trying to gauge whether this was a real conversation or just drunken ramblings. “I hadn't talked to her in about six months. You?”

He nodded. “I talked to her a month ago.”

She waited. It seemed like he had something to get off his chest.

“She called me up one night. In one of her moods. She wanted to go out. I got the feeling some guy had blown her off or something. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Did you go?”

He sighed. “I went to her place. Slept with her. Left right afterward.”

“Nice.”

He rested his head in his hand. “I'm such a shithead.”

Laney didn't say anything.

He turned to look at her, and the guilt on his face gave her a sharp pang.

She put her arm around him. He slumped against her and buried his face in her hair. “I'm a total shit, Laney.”

“God, you smell like a distillery.” She pushed him away.

He scooted away from her on the futon, and she gave him another shove. He tipped over and rested his head in her lap. His face crumpled, and she felt a flurry of nervousness because she really, really didn't want him to cry.

“Where was the wake?” she asked.

He slung his arm over her lap. “O'Toole's.”

“Who was there?”

“Dmitry. Mindy. Ian. You shoulda gone,” he mumbled.

“Was Scream there?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“I've been trying to reach him.”

“It was mainly ChatWare people. It was a good crowd.”

She waited for more, but he seemed tapped out. His eyes were closed, and his face suddenly looked relaxed.

Baggins walked over and rubbed against her ankles. Laney sighed and looked around at her messy house. Empty Starbucks cups littered the counter. Unopened
mail blanketed the breakfast table. The black heels she'd worn to the funeral sat in the middle of the rug.

This was not what she'd wanted to be doing tonight. She'd wanted a man here but not this one.

She gazed down at Ben. His hair was brown, with light streaks from all the hours he spent outside playing Ultimate Frisbee. Gently, she stroked her fingers through it. She wasn't the cuddle type, but he was too drunk to remember. In fact, he looked unconscious. She feathered his hair off his forehead. It was shaggy, but she'd always liked it.

He turned his head and kissed the top of her thigh. She ignored him, and he did it again. She started to push him off, and he caught her hand.

“Don't.” He looked up at her with those sad eyes, and her heart ached for him. “Please, Laney? Don't kick me out.”

•   •   •

A dull pounding noise pulled Laney from sleep. She sat up in bed and looked around. Sunlight streamed through her mini-blinds, casting yellow stripes over the cat curled at the foot of her bed.

More pounding.

She got up and glanced around the room. She grabbed a pair of boxers off her floor, pulled them on, and went to the front door to check the peephole.

“Crap,” she muttered.

She deactivated her alarm and jerked open the door. Reed looked showered and freshly shaven and much too alert for a Sunday morning.

“Why don't you answer your phone?”

She sighed. “I didn't hear it.”

“I need to talk to you.”

She pulled the door back to let him in. He glanced down at Baggins stretching his paws in the middle of the foyer. Then he glanced at her futon, where from the corner of her eye she could see Ben stirring.

Reed looked at her. “Something's come up with the case.”

“What?”

“Step outside, I'll tell you.” His voice sounded normal, but the muscle in his jaw twitched as Ben got up and crossed the living room in only his boxer briefs, pants in hand.

Laney stepped onto her porch and pulled the door shut behind her. She glanced at her wrist, but she wasn't wearing her watch.

“Ten thirty,” Reed informed her.

She brushed the hair from her eyes and tried not to look flustered. “So what's going on?”

“I got a call this morning from a sheriff's deputy in Clarke County. It's looking like you may be on to something with your theory.”

“What theory?”

“The dating website.”

Her brain clicked into gear as she gazed up at him.

“There's an unsolved homicide down there. Victim was twenty-five, female.” He paused. “Looks like she might have been on Mix.”

She stared up at him, processing the words. “They . . . told you she—”

“They didn't tell me anything. The app was on her cell phone. We found it when we charged the phone up.”

“When was she murdered?”

“Two years ago. Same cause of death, too, blunt-force trauma.” He watched her closely, maybe trying to gauge her reaction.

Laney felt numb. Disoriented. And it wasn't because two minutes ago she'd been sound asleep.

There was another case. A pattern. Until now it had only been a theory. A slimy, monstrous theory that had taken up residence in her mind and refused to go away.

She cleared her throat. “What's her name?”

He didn't answer.

“I'll find out anyway. You already told me the county.”

“Olivia Hollis,” he said.

Laney leaned back against the door. “God, I remember it. It was all over the news.”

She recalled footage of the anguished parents at a press conference. She recalled the flyers and the search parties and all those yellow ribbons tied around trees.

“Does Mix know about this?” she asked. “If they did, they never said anything when they hired us.”

“I'm not sure what they know,” Reed said. “That's why I'm here. It could be they're clueless that this happened to one of their users. Or it could be this is the real reason they wanted Delphi to overhaul their security. The credit-card thing might have been a cover story.”

“It probably was. But they've likely deleted her file by now. Deleted everything about her.”

Reed gazed at her expectantly, and she realized what he wanted. And why he wanted
her
versus some police department flunky who probably didn't know his ass from his elbow.

“I'll need her hardware,” she told him. “Computer, phone, tablet, whatever you have.”

“I'm working on that, but we've got jurisdictional issues, for starters. And that's
if
the victim's computer is still around from two years ago. I know the cell phone is in evidence, but—”

The door creaked open, and Ben stepped outside in his rumpled suit, smelling like old beer. He gave Reed a once-over before turning to Laney.

“I'm taking off, Lane.”

“Ben, this is Reed Novak with Austin PD. Reed, this is Ben Lawson.”

They traded cool nods as Ben pulled the door shut. And then, in case things weren't awkward enough, he planted a kiss on her forehead—no doubt his way of thanking her for sticking him on the couch last night.

“Need a ride?” she asked tersely.

He smiled. “Nah, I'm good.”

She watched him walk down the sidewalk, then crossed her arms and turned to Reed. “You were saying about the phone?” she asked.

“The phone's still in evidence. I'm working on the rest.”

“What about April's phone?”

“We never found it. We've been through her laptop, though, and we didn't find any messages from people on the dating site. We know she had a profile over there, but looks like she only communicated through the site itself, and so far that hasn't produced any leads.”

“Where is it now? April's laptop?”

“Our computer guys have it.”

“I want to see it.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because I've got a hunch.”