Ten
Erin nearly turned and ripped Roy's head off.
"What in the hell are you doing? This is my God damned sister."
"That's exactly why I can't have you going off half-cocked," he said. He wanted this conversation quiet, surrounded by a hodge-podge of her colleagues and his. Erin had no such compunctions.
"What gives you the right to just step in here, and get me suspended?"
Her voice got louder with every word, until Roy started rubbing the bridge of his nose, as if he were wearing glasses. Only her wasn't. It must have been a force of habit, she thought.
"Look, can we move this conversation somewhere else?"
"Fine." She looked at him expectantly for half a second. "Well? Where are we going? Lead the way, your Majesty."
He let out a breath. Part of her felt bad, but it wasn't a large part, and it was only the part that had spent several hours with him inside her not long ago.
"Come on, this way. I've taken one of the empty offices. Nothing's set up yet, but it's someplace we can talk."
He took her over to the corner office. Her corner office. The one she was supposed to move into when her damn promotion finally came through, but with all the red tape around it she'd been waiting with half her files in boxes for a month now. So much for that plan.
"How are you holding up?" He closed the door behind him, and his face was still as soft as it had been throughout her screaming at him.
"I was holding up a lot better when I was doing something concrete."
"I was going to call you, I just, my plane only touched down twenty minutes ago, and I had to—"
"Leave it. I'm not ready to talk about that right now."
"Okay, what's got you so riled up?"
"You know exactly what has me riled up. My sister is lying down on a cold metal slab with her guts half hanging out because of some scumbag, and now I have to wait and just hope you catch the son of a bitch before he kills someone else's little sister."
"Erin—"
"Don't you 'Erin' me. I'm not wrong, and you know it."
"I know. But there's a reason that the protocols are in place. You're too close to the case. You’re upset and you're going to be bolting at shadows."
She considered telling him that she'd already found a shadow to bolt at—a solid lead and serious answers to the big questions that she'd been able to raise in just a few short hours. But she kept it to herself.
"How did you get out here so fast?"
"We started moving the minute we got a call that someone was looking for a case like this."
"Like what? It reads like a mugging."
"Sure it does. But there are specifics we were keeping an eye out for. Nothing taken, seven stab wounds to the abdomen. Young woman, pretty, dark-haired. It's pretty specific, and as soon as my guys have had a look at the body we'll be sure."
"What's so special about all that?"
"In four years, we've had five killings just like it."
"And why didn't L.A.P.D. get anything on their search?"
"2012, it was in Montgomery. 2013, Augusta Maine; 2014, Scottsdale; 2015, two murders, almost back-to-back, in Chicago."
"Okay, so it's a repeat offender. Seven stab wounds exactly, you say?"
"Every time."
Erin let out a breath. This wasn't over her head, but it certainly was above her pay grade. Not that it changed anything.
"What are the details?"
"No details," Roy said. He sounded apologetic. "We've got a few ideas about who it could be, but no leads locally. We do know that they were all using the same dating service. Online thing, you communicate through text and then photos, and then—well, you get the idea."
She didn't, but she could make a few good guesses as to how exactly it went.
"Okay, so—forgive me here, but I assume you've contacted the dating service? You know who they were all dating?"
"Yeah, we know. That's the thing. Not the same guy."
He picked up a thick leather binder and unzipped the outside, flipped it open. Four different faces stared out at her. Sometimes suspects would change their hair style, trim their beards or grow them out. Look different.
Makeup and disguise could do a lot, and she didn't want to rule out that she was being fooled, but there were at least two men here. Men who couldn't have faked being the other.
She let out a breath.
"And do you have information on Becca's date?"
"Sure, it's coming through any minute now."
Erin reached into her pocket and unfolded a piece of paper.
"That's him. Craig Hutchinson, according to his Facebook."
"You've been busy," Roy said. All business now. "That's all I need from you. You're dismissed." His voice softened again. "I'll call you later."
"Fuck you. My sister was murdered, you're not cutting me out."
"I can keep you informed, but only as a civilian."
"Not good enough."
Roy's face darkened, and he looked around as if he expected someone to be hiding behind the desk he had sat his ass up on. Her desk, or it should have been.
"Look, Erin. I can't do any better for you, and you know as well as I do that I can't stop you from doing whatever you're going to do. But don't fuck this up. We need to still have the evidence at the end of the day to nail this son of a bitch."
She let out a deep breath. "Yeah, I know."
"You know? Good. Now get your shit straight. Go on." He pointed her out the door with a nod of his head.
"Fuck off, Roy. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"I'll call you later."
"I'm going to be busy later today."
"Then tomorrow."
"I'm going to be busy tomorrow, too. Pretty much all this month. It's pretty busy being suspended."
"Yeah, I hear," he said, sarcastic and angry.
"Good luck with the investigation, though. I'm sure that you Feds can take care of it just fine."
"Erin, we can. But this isn't over, and you know it."
"Yeah, I know."
"I know you're upset. Don't do anything to get yourself hurt."
"I'm not going to get hurt."
She could tell Roy didn't like that answer. He didn't get to tell her what to do. But she already had a plan forming in her head, and with some luck she'd be able to make it work.
With nothing more to say, she started towards the door. Roy stopped her a moment. "Wait, one last thing."
"What's that?"
"Whatever you find, I want you to come back in here and tell me. Every day."
"Maybe I will, when I feel like it."
"Erin—"
"I'm not your damn sex-bunny, Roy. You don't get to boss me around just because you're in charge now. You don't own me."
She about slapped him, but managed to stop herself.
"I know. But I know you're about to go do exactly the opposite of what I want you to do, which is nothing. When you do it, either you win or you lose, and I want to make sure that if you don't catch the son of a bitch, we don't have to let him go free and clear. Whatever you find, you tell someone before you go off on it. Is that understood?"
She turned and gave a mock salute.
"Then you're dismissed. Good luck, Detective Russo."
"Good luck yourself, Special Agent Schafer."
She stormed out, furious with him for taking the case from her. But she was more furious with herself for letting it hurt as much as it did.