Hit and Run (24 page)

“You sure I can’t give you a ride to the ER?” the officer asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then drive careful. I’ll be in touch if we get anything.”

Yeah, right. And Krista would be waiting by the phone.

Her passenger door no longer opened, so she went around to the driver’s side and wedged the file box into the backseat. Then she got behind the wheel and turned her key in the ignition. Miraculously, it started on the first try. Krista pulled out slowly, and the patrol officer followed her to the end of the block, where they parted ways.

Krista clutched the wheel as she made her way home. She took deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. The adrenaline was wearing off and now the shakes were setting in. She focused on the road, on carefully obeying every traffic law. She came to a stop at a yellow light, prompting a friendly gesture from the driver behind her.

Finally, she turned onto her street and the sight of lights in her house brought a warm rush of relief. Mac was there. Krista rarely saw him because he used the outdoor staircase to come and go. At the moment, though, he was at his door paying a pizza guy.

Krista waited for the deliveryman to pull out, then swung into her driveway. She gathered up her box and purse and hauled everything inside.

“No place like home! No place like home!”

She dumped her stuff on the coffee table and went straight to the kitchen.

“Give us a kiss!”

She pulled open the freezer and found a pair of empty ice trays. A stack of Lean Cuisines and a box of Girl Scout cookies rounded out the inventory. She pulled out a sleeve of Thin Mints and pressed it ever-so-gently to her cheek.

“Give us a kiss!”

“We ate all the cashews, Spence.” She poured some Kashi into a bowl and slid it into his cage.

A knock sounded at her door. She went over and checked the peephole before pulling it open.

“Whose car is that?” Mac asked. “And what happened to your face?”

“Long story.” She would have liked to skip it, but then again, he worked for her. “Someone rammed into me in front of the office.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He frowned. “So, that’s
your
car out there, or—”

“It’s mine. And it’s actually still working, so I got lucky there.”

Mac darted a doubtful look at her driveway. “Well... you need a ride anywhere? Like maybe a doc-in-the-box or something?”

“I’m good, thanks. Hey, you notice anything weird down at the office today? Anyone loitering around?”

“Nope.”

“How about a black sedan? Maybe someone scoping the place out or doing a drive-by?”

He shook his head.

Krista glanced across the street and spotted Mrs. Ruman peeking through her curtains.

“Well, goodnight,” she told Mac, but he seemed reluctant to go.

“Let me know if you need a ride or whatever.”

She locked up behind him. Her discerning macaw had rejected the Kashi so she gave him a cookie and returned to her kitchen in search of something cold. She twisted the top off a cold Tecate, took a swig, then pressed the bottle to her face and tried not to wince. The skin over her cheek felt tight. Her head was still screaming, but at least she wasn’t shaking anymore.

More knocking.

She expected Mrs. Ruman, but it was R.J.

“Christ, what happened to you?” He stepped inside.

“I just—”

He shut the door and pulled her close to a lamp. He tipped her face back to examine it. “That’s going to be a monster bruise.” His brow furrowed. “What’d you do, get hit?”

“Someone hit
me
.” She tugged away from him. “When I was leaving the office. I smacked my head on the pavement.”

“You were on
foot?
”

She went through the entire story, and his frown deepened as she got to the part about the car doubling back for her. If she hadn’t sprinted for the cover of the nearest building, it might have hit her.

“What’d the cops do?”

“Not a lot,” she said. “But I’ll go back tomorrow, see what I can get.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s reality. Santa Ana PD’s got bigger problems on their hands than deranged drivers, apparently.”

R.J. stared at her, hands on hips. His jaw tightened, and she realized she’d never seen him so angry.

“Really, I’m fine.”

He eyed the beer in her hand. “Got anything stronger than that?”

“No, but I’ve got more.” She led him back to the kitchen and gave him a beer.

He took a sip, then leaned back against the counter, watching her. “So, who’d you piss off today?”

“What? Nobody.”

“Looks like someone took a wrecking ball to your car.”

“No one. I was with you half the day.”

“What about the other half?”

She huffed out a sigh. “I was at the bank. And Rico’s Auto Center. And Holland’s law firm. And then the White Lotus, Brittany’s yoga studio.”

He shook his head.

“What?”

“Don’t you think this has something to do with the case?”

“I’ve barely been on this case seventy-two hours. And as far as I know, the only person I’ve managed to piss off is the client. Which is a good point, actually—maybe it was Holland.”

“No, he was with me.” His gaze narrowed. “And when did you piss him off?”

“The other night at the Kettridge. I sort of kicked him in the balls.”

“You
assaulted
our client?” He sounded outraged, but he looked amused.

“He had it coming. And anyway, he’s not
my
client. Technically, he’s Walker’s.”

R.J. tipped his head back and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I hate this case.”

“What happened to champions of the world’s greatest justice system?”

He glared at her, and she took another slug of beer. It wasn’t helping her headache, but it seemed to be settling her nerves.

“Does anyone on the witness list drive a white Avalanche?” she asked.

“I thought you said it was a black four-door.”

“This is something different. A white Avalanche was seen rolling past Brittany’s house on the afternoon of her murder.”

“Seen by who?”

“Arturo Garza. He delivers beer to the restaurant down the street.”

“Never heard of him.”

“It’s a good thing you hired me then, isn’t it?”

He watched her skeptically.

“You should get someone at the DMV to run the pickup for you,” she said. “See if it turns up anything.”

“There are probably hundreds of white Avalanches in L.A. and Orange County.” He paused. “But we can probably narrow it down some. It’s not a bad lead.”

“Another thing I learned today—the victim lost her keys the week before her murder.”

His gaze sharpened. “Where’d you get that?”

“The clerk at the yoga studio.”

“Joshua Harvey. We interviewed that guy.”

“Sounds like you need to interview him again,” she said. “That detail could be important, especially considering there was no sign of forced entry.”

R.J. watched her from across the room. She could tell she’d surprised him, and she felt nice and smug about it.

“So, how was
your
night?” she asked, changing the subject now that she’d one-upped him.

“Better than yours.”

“Where’d you go in such a hurry?”

He sighed. “Holland was on a bender. Turned up at the Billiard Room and picked a fight with someone.”

“What’re you, his babysitter now?”

“I’m Walker’s troubleshooter. Comes with the job.”

She watched him, thinking about that. She’d always envied his position with Walker. It certainly paid well. But there had to be plenty of downsides, too, such as constantly bailing idiots out of trouble.

R.J. set his beer on the counter and stepped closer. Krista tensed.

“That’s some good detective work you did today.”

She shrugged. “I’m a good detective.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but it came out nervous.

R.J. picked up her hand and gazed down at her wrist, which was crusted with blood and dirt. He reached around her and turned on the faucet. Without a word, he guided her hand under the water and rinsed the cut. He smelled like outdoors and faintly of cologne. She let her gaze settle on the collar of his shirt where it met smooth, tanned skin.

“Krista.”

She looked up at him. His eyes were so blue, and her stomach fluttered when she read the look in them. She wasn’t up for this tonight. She was shaken and scared and way too needy.

He reached up and stroked his thumb slowly over her jaw. She held her breath. Meanwhile her heart was thrumming. As his gaze dropped to her mouth it thrummed even faster.

He kissed her. Lightly at first, then tipping her head slightly and going deeper. She knew there were a hundred reasons to push him away, but she was rattled and she couldn’t think of a single one. She slid her arms around him and let him delve into her mouth, exploring. And then his hands were up under her shirt, sliding around to her back and pulling her against him.

“You taste sweet,” he murmured and pulled her closer.

She kissed him to shut him up and wrapped her arms around his neck and let the warm pulsing of her body drive the headache away. He tasted good. Too good. And his hands were sliding over her back, and she didn’t want him to stop. He shifted her so that she was pressed against the counter, and she glided her hands up his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. For so long she’d fought the urge to touch him this way, feel him, and now she was here, doing it. And suddenly his body pressed into hers and she opened her eyes, and found him watching her hungrily.

A knock at the door made her jump.

“No place like home! No place like home!”

She glanced at the door, then R.J. She left him in her kitchen and went to answer it. It was Scarlet and she didn’t look happy.

“I got your message. Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”

“How the hell did it happen?”

“Hey, Scarlet.” R.J. walked up behind Krista.

“Hi.” Scarlet looked him over and darted Krista a sharp gaze. “We need to talk.”

R.J. slipped out the door, and Scarlet stepped inside.

“I’m taking off.” R.J.’s gaze met Krista’s, and she tried to read him. What had just happened back there?

“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” he asked.

“Working.”

“Don’t you need transportation? I’d offer you my Jeep, but Brian’s driving it.”

“I’ve got transportation.”

He cast a skeptical glance at her driveway.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Runs like a kitten.”

Krista dragged herself out of bed at six and managed to snap some pictures of the tire marks before rush hour traffic set in. Scarlet had promised to follow up with a CSI she knew, so Krista emailed her the shots, then tried unsuccessfully to reach R.J. She had a question about the case file she’d stayed up late reading. It wasn’t her only question, but the only one she wanted to tackle with him this morning.

He didn’t pick up so she was forced to get resourceful. She hustled her food-deprived self over to the Donuttery and stocked up on pastries before driving up to Burke, Bumble & Holland.

New flower arrangement, same receptionist. Deirdre looked dazzling this morning in a coral halter dress.

“Morning.” Krista set a box of doughnuts in front of her. “Time for a coffee break?”

“Uh, I don’t really—” A call interrupted her and she switched to her phone voice. “Burke, Bumble, and Holland. How may I help you?”

Deirdre eyed Krista’s bruise as she handled the call. When she finished, her gaze dropped to the doughnuts. Krista lifted the lid and the scent of sugary goodness wafted up from the box.

“Blueberry’s the best.”

Deirdre bit her lip. “I’m kind of on a diet.”

“It’s worth it.”

“I don’t know.” Perfectly manicured fingers hovered over the box. She selected the blueberry and darted a glance over her shoulder before taking a nibble. She closed her eyes and moaned.

Krista chose a red velvet with cream-cheese icing. “So, you know, I’m working with Rob Holland’s defense team.”

Deirdre’s expression soured. Must have hit a bad blueberry.

“R.J. Flynn tells me you know everyone here at the firm. Did you know Brittany?”

R.J.’s name seemed to have a better effect. Deirdre tilted her head to the side.

“We overlapped some. She started not long after I did. Maybe a few months?” She sipped from her coffee mug.

“And did you keep up after she left?”

“A little.” She took another bite, then dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I went to their wedding and everything. But after that...” She shook her head.

“Had you talked to her at all around the time she died?”

Another glance over her shoulder, and Krista couldn’t tell whether she was worried about being caught gossiping or eating.

“We talked some.” She tore off a chunk of doughnut. “You know, R.J. asked me these exact same questions. Did he forget to write it down?”

Krista had no idea. She’d been up half the night reading, but still hadn’t managed to get through all the files.

“I’m just getting caught up,” Krista said. “I’m trying to understand if Brittany might have been seeing someone new.”

“I don’t know. We weren’t that good of friends, really. Not after she quit. I mean, we had lunch a few times and went to the beach. But we didn’t spend every minute together or anything.”

Krista munched on her doughnut, hoping she’d keep talking, but she threw another nervous glance over her shoulder.

“I should probably get back to work,” Deirdre said.

“I understand. Hey, is Liz Brown in yet? I had a question to ask her.”

“I haven’t seen her today, but she usually doesn’t get in till nine.”

“What about Mia Vallard?”

“She’s here.” Deirdre looked wary. “Why, you want to talk to her?”

“It’ll just take a minute.”

She placed a call to Mia’s office and then smiled at Krista. “You can go on back.”

“Thanks. Oh, and by the way—do you know anyone around here who drives a white Chevy Avalanche?”

She shook her head.

Krista retraced her steps from the day before, noting Liz’s name on a placard beside one of the offices. She stuck her head in. No Liz, but the briefcase and the bottle of water on her desk indicated that she might have arrived already. Krista walked down the hall and found Mia getting off the phone. She looked startled at the sight of Krista’s bruise.