He turned the recorder off. “I’ll amend the report straight away. This is no accidental cut. It’s too straight. Want to see?”
Anne came over to his side of the corpse and took a good look at the cut. “Why would you bother to do something like that? The man’s already dead. He’d have to get closer to the body after the kill.”
“That’s serial killer behavior,” Jeffers said, coming over to take a work at it. “Trophies and brands.”
“I dunno if he’s a serial killer, but I’d imagine he’s proud of his work,” William offered. “Didn’t use to bother with guns, though. Knives used to be his thing.”
“Oh, does this give you a new lead?” Shaw asked.
“Yeah, a big one.” Anne put her hands on her hips. Her whole posture bore the weight of her thoughts as she began reworking this case in her mind. The certainty that it was someone who had killed before probably changed her approach.
“How the hell did you know about this?” Jeffers said.
William slipped his hands into his pockets. “Told you. Been on the inside. Ya pick up a few things.”
“I bet you do,” Jeffers said, leveling the full weight of his suspicion on him. The inference was clear. He believed that William had made the mark himself, or that he’d employed the person who had made the mark.
Those suspicions would be easy enough to quell, but William didn’t feel like sharing just now. Jeffers was an idiot if he thought anyone would walk right into the police station to tip them off to evidence they’d missed. William had given them a huge push in the right direction. His conscience was in the clear.
“Well, looks like you lot have work to do.” William turned to leave.
“No way. I want to know how you knew that mark was there,” Jeffers demanded.
“Not without a lawyer, if that’s the tone you’re going to take.”
Shaw looked utterly lost. Pity he worked for the police. He seemed a good fellow.
“We can’t hold him without cause, Jeffers,” Anne reminded him.
William smirked a little as he watched Jeffers turning red. Easily the best part of his day.
***
“I apologize for Jeffers,” Anne said.
William winked. “Maybe you ought to apologize by making better use of those handcuffs.”
“Not a chance.”
The two of them stood outside of the station, the wind lifting Anne’s hair and the long train of his leather jacket. William couldn’t say he wasn’t happy to see the suspicion erased from her face. In the end, all he really wanted to do was close this distance between them and start up where they’d left off. His luck for the day seemed to have run out, though, because as he reached for her hand, she pulled back.
Not in public. Not in front of the station. Not anywhere.
William sighed. “I’d hate for you to be out there blind, love. I don’t know who this hit man is, but he’s dangerous and has clearly spent some time in the gun range since I last heard of him in the field. Keep your Kevlar on, if you go out looking for him, hm?”
“I’ll be careful.” Wry amusement curved onto Anne’s lips. “You remember that I’m the cop, and you’re the civilian, don’t you?”
“You remember that I’m not just a civilian?”
Anne’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I wish I could forget.”
William cleared his throat. “Got things to do, darling. Happy hunting.”
“Wait.”
William turned back to her, expectantly. Her expression was soft, her lips parted just slightly as she looked over him.
“Yeah, love?”
“Let me see your hand.”
William didn’t have to ask which hand. But he gave her the right one anyway.
“You know I mean the left.”
“How should I know what you’re on about? I’ve about had it with police shenanigans for the day.”
Anne tilted her head to the side and made that face. That stubborn, bossy face of hers. He wanted to grab her, throw her against the wall, and kiss that look off her face. But he’d probably get gunned down by the trigger-happy wankers inside.
Instead, he rubbed his middle and ring finger together inside his pocket, feeling the ridge of the little scar there, and knowing exactly what she was on about. She’d guessed how he knew that scar would be there. She remembered the other scar on his side, made by a knife wound long before the two of them had met.
“You and I aren’t anything to each other anymore,” he said very quietly, lest someone actually be listening. “I’m no longer one of the people you have to protect. And even if I were, remember that I’m one of the bad guys, and you shouldn’t protect me anyway.”