“A friend of the family. This note might be connected to a prolific cold case. One that’s going to need to be reopened. I want to know if there were any fingerprints left behind on this.”
“If there are, we’ll put it in the system and see if we can get a match.”
He thanked them and took them up on their offer to take his vehicle back to the office before crossing to Kinley’s car. He got in the passenger’s side, slammed the door, and fastened his seatbelt. Silence hung between them until he picked up on the conversation they’d been having before he got out of the car to talk to CSI.
“We can go now. Tell me why you feel like you need to go it alone.” The words came out harsher than he intended, but she didn’t shrink from him. “You’d have no problem assisting someone else,” he said more softly.
“It’s different.” Kinley reversed out of the parking space, looking over her shoulder before trusting her back-up camera.
The tires crunched over the dirt and gravel coating the ground before lurching onto the smooth main road. “How?”
Her eyes darkened from honey to scotch. “They don’t know what he’s capable of. What would be in store if he took them or their children.”
“Tell them. Make sure everyone knows exactly what will happen if he starts killing again—if he’s even stopped. We can get him off the streets, lock him away for good, but we need to communicate with those who took an oath to protect.” Her altruism was frustrating the hell out of him.
“It’s not just that.” She blew out a breath, ruffling a strand of hair close to her lips. “I was always curious about his profession. The investigators’ profile was that of a middle-class male, white, most likely held a blue-collar job, and had higher than average intelligence. What if he’s closer than we think? What if he always has been?”
“You think he’s a cop?” Kinley was taking the exit toward Framingham. She was headed to the state police barracks.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. It would explain why he’s evaded capture for so long. Staying one step ahead. Knowing the right way to dispose of the bodies so they can’t be traced back to him.”
“I can see it.” They slowed to a stop at a red light. A school bus flanked them on the right and a small sedan on the left. “That’s a good place to start. I’ll pull the records for all public service workers in Kingston Town and those who repeatedly failed the police and fire academy. Too narcissistic to hack it as a team player. Someone who saw constructive criticism as a slight. We can see if there were any law enforcement transfers to Massachusetts around the time you moved. I want to have a look at the victims, too. If I recall, there were no specific traits shared, except for the age range.”
“Some were runaways, and others were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. An opportunity too good for him to pass up.”
Like her. She didn’t need to elaborate. After Gus had told him about Kinley, he’d done some research of his own. Middle class, two-parent home, an only child. She’d gotten average grades in school and hadn’t been in any real trouble. She would perceive his research as an invasion of privacy. She wouldn’t care that the better he knew her, the more he could help to keep her safe. And he was doing exactly what she’d asked him not to—trying to take over, playing the role of protector. Was it out of gratitude because she’d saved his foster brother, or was he looking at her as someone who’d been abused? Someone like him and his biological brother. An innocent in need of protection.
“Tell me about your decision to move to Massachusetts.” The light turned green, and traffic flowed forward. “I mean, medical care and education are huge draws, but as someone right out of college, it couldn’t have been easy moving up here. Housing costs are through the roof. The cost of living itself is high. Especially for a new trooper.” If she was surprised by his question, she hid it well.
“It didn’t have to be Mass. I wanted New England, though. Somewhere drastically different from where I grew up. Where I could stop jumping at every shadow. Looks like they followed me anyway,” she said casually and flipped on her directional. Easton spotted Gus’s car in the lot of the brick building that housed one of the state police barracks.
“Did your family consider the move?” After almost losing their daughter, it would’ve made sense for the Wrights to want to be close to Kinley. Then again, he didn’t have the best examples of paternal love.
“I never asked. They went through their own kind of hell when I was abducted. Polygraphs, interrogations, the media camped outside the front door. I know they love me. There are no hard feelings. We just needed different things. They found comfort in the familiarity of their community. I found it suffocating.” The car jolted over a speed bump.
He nodded slowly, considering. “It must’ve been lonely.”
“Loneliness won’t kill you.” She whipped into a spot and turned off the engine. “Thanks for looking into this, Easton. Gus said if anyone can find this guy, it’s you. He’ll give you a ride back to your office.”
He raised a brow at her quick dismissal. Maybe she refused to hide out. He could understand and respect it, but that didn’t mean he would leave her on her own. “Let me go in there with you to talk to the lieutenant. Together, we can figure out a plan to make sure this guy doesn’t ambush you while you’re doing your job.”
The stubborn tilt of her chin told him his idea wasn’t a popular one. “I get that you want to help. It feels good to have someone frustrated on my behalf, but this is a conversation I need to have with him alone. If I walk into my superior’s office hiding in your shadow, how can he possibly trust my competence as a detective? I have cases that need my focus, and I’m not waiting around for a bodyguard or asking someone else to do my dirty work so I can hide behind a stack of papers.” She shot him a fixed stare, begging him to object further.
“What are you afraid of?” Maybe she didn’t want to be perceived as weak. Perhaps it was more than that. Maybe she needed to be a crusader for victims, just as he did. If he was denied the ability to do his job, it would be a huge blow. If she helped enough people find closure to their own horrific tragedies, she didn’t have to think of hers.
“How about my dignity and self-respect, for starters?” Her incredulous gaze stirred something within him. “Isn’t that enough?” She unbuckled her seatbelt, the latch clicking as she shrugged it aside.
He was afraid for her. There was a tightness in his chest, which was stupid. She’d carried out her detective duties without issue this far. She didn’t need someone to keep her safe. She needed an ally. “They’re not going to think less of you. You won’t be fired.”
“I was out long enough dealing with the department’s psych eval for the use of deadly force. I have to keep busy.” Kinley turned toward the backseat, reaching beyond the center console to retrieve her bag.
The movement brought her body closer to his. Her scent hit him hard—coconut and sea salt—like she’d spent the morning on some sandy island beach. He drew in another breath. She was punchy and strong, but smelled like a piña colada and looked twice as sweet. The contrast between her outward appearance and inner strength was damn appealing.
“If I get put on paid leave, or taken off my cases…” She turned around, stopping midsentence. “I hate leaving things unfinished. He took away part of my childhood. I’m not going to let him rob me of anything else.”
And, hell. What was he supposed to say to that?