Dead Center (The Rookie Club Book 1) (13 page)

"These are guys my age," he continued.

"Wow. Old, huh?"

He tickled her side.

She wiggled. "What did they say to him?"

"Burrito jokes."

"Oh God."

"I guess Scott took a swing at one of them."

"What'd they do?"

"They left him cuffed to the axle of his car."

She laughed. "That's terrible."

"Ah, he deserved it, the punk." He turned her over, kissed her again. They stopped talking for a few minutes. Then he sat up again, stared at her. "What's going on with Devlin?"

She put a leg over his, tucked herself against him. Put her head down. "You heard Tim Worley came forward? He was with her. Says she was already dead when he found her in the office."

Buck raised a brow.

"Claims he planned to take her to the hospital. He knelt down to check her pulse when he was hit in the head."

"Any evidence he was hit?"

She nodded. "He's got a odd-shaped cut and a goose egg. He claims he woke up a bit later and carried her out."

"Why carry her out if she was already dead?"

"Says he didn't realize she was dead until he was already moving her. Then he didn't want to leave her there."

"Is the story consistent?"

Hailey shrugged. "Hard to be sure. She was definitely killed in her office and definitely moved. That's about all I can say on it yet."

"You find a weapon?"

"No. And since he'd showered by the time he came in, any trace evidence on him is down the drain. He was hit by something. CSU is working with photos and some molds of his injury to try to find out what it was."

"Where's he now?"

"In jail. We found clothes covered in Natasha's blood in his car."

He whistled.

"Did you see the blowup they had at the awards ceremony? Must've been three-dozen witnesses."

"Christ. Not good PR for the department."

"'Cause he's with the department?"

He nodded. "We've got enough bad PR circulating."

Neither said anything for several moments.

"How do you figure it happened?" he asked.

"Lovers' quarrel in her office," she offered. "He came at her. She struck him in the head, and he slammed her against the desk or something to finish her off. Could've been an accident. We're still running some basic tests, but we've got two different semen samples. Our lab can't do anything with it, so the samples go to the outside lab. It could take months to get usable DNA results. And that's if we're lucky."

Buck frowned. "Shit."

"She got around, too, which doesn't help," Hailey told him. "Once we match the other one, we'll need to talk to that guy, too."

"Well, it's good work. Lots of people watching that case. Better to have it wrapped up."

"It's not that simple," she said. "One thing we can definitely tell from the evidence is that Natasha had sex with someone else after Worley."

"So you think Worley interrupted something and killed her?"

"If so, who's our other guy? Why didn't he come forward?"

"You printed her office?"

"This is where it gets bad."

Buck's eyes widened. "What? His?"

She shook her head. "The desk was cleaned off with some sort of bleach wipe. The door, too. No sign of any prints—not Devlin's or Worley's. None."

He frowned. "Can you link the chemical to a solution she had in the office?"

"Not yet. And we didn't find anything like it in Worley's stuff. The lab's still working on identifying it."

"That means somebody was prepared."

She smiled at the direction his logic took, that he thought just like she did. "That's the only hitch I see. A guy who has a big blowup with his girlfriend and follows her to her office isn't prepared to clean up after the kill unless it was premeditated. And from what I saw at the ceremony, Natasha was railing on Tim pretty hard. He sounded genuinely shocked at first. Then he got angry."

Buck was silent a minute. "Maybe he carried wipes in his car. Like a neat freak?"

She shook her head. "None."

"His desk?"

"Nope. And so far no trace of the chemical on his clothes or in his car, either."

"What about the murder?"

"Blunt-force trauma to the head. Coroner is trying to help us with the shape of the weapon."

"You know if Worley was hit with the same thing?"

"Not yet."

He kissed her neck.

Her stomach growled. "We going to eat?"

He pulled Hailey back on top of him, shifted under her. "You're not full yet?"

She sat up, kissed him. "Worley's the obvious because of timing, but the way I hear it, there was a long line of guys she'd dumped hard."

Something in his expression changed.

"What?" she asked.

"No, I just—"

Just then a cell phone rang. She sat up, looked at his sitting silently on the nightstand. "Mine."

She found it on the floor, glanced at the number.

"Station?"

She nodded.

"Wyatt," she answered.

"Dispatch here. I've got a call from Jim Wyatt. Says it's urgent."

She pressed a fist to her gut. Her father-in-law. "Put it through."

She heard two clicks. "Jim?"

"Hailey."

"Jim, what's wrong? Is everyone okay?"

"Fine. I'm sorry to bother you. You're probably out at a scene..." He let the comment hang.

"It's fine, Jim. What's wrong?"

She met Buck's gaze. He nodded to the phone. She shrugged, had no idea what was going on. Her father-in-law rarely called her.

"I'm afraid I need a favor from you, Hailey."

She scowled, sat back in the bed. "A favor?"

Buck shook his head. He knew all about her senator father-in-law. He ran a finger across her thigh.

She pushed it away. "What is it, Jim?"

"There's been a murder. It happened this morning—here in San Francisco."

"Who's been killed?"

"Abby and Hank Dennig."

"Dennig?" She shook her head. "I don't know the names. It's not my case."

"Abby Dennig is Tom Rittenburg's daughter. Tom Rittenburg is—"

"The head of San Francisco's NRA. I met him at your fundraiser at the old Federal Reserve."

"Right," Jim said. "Good memory."

"How were they killed?" she asked.

"You haven't heard, then?"

"No. I've been out of the station for about an hour." She glanced at the clock. It had been more like two. She steadied her breath. "Do you want me to find out who's working it?"

"No. I already know that."

"What sort of favor do you need?"

Buck rubbed her shoulder. She shifted away from him, concentrating.

"I'd like you to take the case," he said.

"I can't do that, Jim. We work in rotation."

"I've spoken to the mayor."

Just then, the call-waiting beeped. "Jim, hold on."

She pressed the send button. "Wyatt."

"You're a popular girl."

Hailey frowned at Marshall's voice. Her captain. "What are you talking about?"

"I just got a call from Deputy Chief Scanlan. He's been on the phone with the mayor."

"Shit."

"You've got a new case—It's Tom Rittenburg's daughter. He's—"

"I know who he is."

"The scene's already been processed, but the van they were killed in has been sent to the lab. You'll have full access to it whenever you're ready. The autopsy was done earlier. I'll get you the full report in the morning."

"Whose case was it?"

"Wade."

Rylan Wade. He'd been in Homicide longer than her and had a better solve record. "He's good. Why not let him have it?"

"Because the mayor asked for you."

"What about the Devlin case?" she asked.

"You've arrested Worley, right?"

She stood. "I can't do both. If I take Dennigs, then put the other guy back on the Devlin case."

"What other guy?"

"Whoever you sent out to the scene that morning. There was a rookie cop there who said she saw him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Marshall responded, a little short. "There were easily a dozen cops in the vicinity that morning. If you haven't noticed, the building's full of them."

Hailey felt her voice rise. "I can't do both cases. There's too much media. They're going to want to know why the department isn't focused on finding—"

"Where are you now?"

She glanced at Buck, closed her eyes. Lied. "I'm talking to one of Devlin's neighbors, trying to get information on who else she might have been seeing." She felt her cheeks flush.

"Fine. Come in when you're back. We'll get you some support." With that, the line went dead.

She kept her eyes closed a moment, wishing her partner Hal Harris weren't still out. It had been almost three weeks since the shoulder surgery. How long would it take before he could shoot his gun and come back to work?

She pushed send as Buck started to talk. She shook her head, pressed her finger to her lips.

"Jim?" she said, returning to the original call.

"I'm here," he said.

"That was my captain. I got your message. I have to tell you, you've put me in an extremely awkward position. I wish you'd called me before you spoke to the mayor. Inspector Rylan Wade was working the Dennig case. He's got a higher solve rate than I do and he's been in the department longer."

"Rittenburg deserves to know what happened to his daughter. I know if it were mine, I'd push for the best, too."

"I don't know that you've gotten him the best," Hailey said, knowing she'd lost the fight.

"Why don't we talk later?"

She said good-bye, ended the call, checked twice to be sure she hadn't left the line open. Her fingers trembled.

She dropped the phone onto the bed. Bent over for her pants. Pulled them on.

"I'm sorry," Buck said.

She nodded, too frustrated to respond.

"What'd you say about the Devlin scene this morning?" he asked.

"Some other asshole was there first. Marshall won't tell me who. They're all teaming up." She looked at him. "There's probably some club of men who screwed Natasha down at the station."

He didn't respond. She knew he wasn't used to seeing her all riled up.

She wasn't used to it either. "It just pisses me off."

He nodded. "So I can see."

She scooped her bra off the floor, snapped it on. Found her shirt in the hall, then her jacket. Went into the bathroom to wash up. When she was dressed, she came back. He was still propped in the bed, naked. "Don't you have to work?"

He patted the sheets.

She sat, tried to calm herself. "I can't have both cases."

"Talk to Marshall. He's reasonable."

"The mayor called and asked Deputy Chief Scanlan for me specifically."

"Hey, if you close it, it'll probably mean a raise and it would put you in line for a captain's opening."

She smiled, shook her head.

He pulled her back, kissed her hard. "Same time day after tomorrow?"

"You'd better feed me next time."

He grinned. "Promise."

With that, she slipped into her shoes, checked her rosy reflection in the hallway mirror, and headed back outside to an increasingly grim reality.

Chapter 13

After lunch, Jamie called Captain Jules, requesting additional surveillance hours on Marchek. So far, Marchek hadn't been out of line enough to get a grade schooler detention and she was nowhere on convicting him of rape. She needed more time. Letting him go unwatched was pure stupidity. Her biggest fear was that they would stop watching him and another officer would be attacked. It would happen if she didn't get him. It was inevitable.