Single.
Time.
“Do we have any updates from the Kellies?” I strove for professionalism, but Asa’s knee was applying pressure to an interesting place that tempted me to squirm. “Any news on who the leg belongs to?”
“Nothing yet.” Asa skimmed emails on his phone. “It’s yet to be matched to any of our missing persons.”
Hopefully, that meant the lab was backlogged, not that we had a brand-new victim.
“We need to finish the background searches on the victims’ parents,” I told them. “See what pops.”
“I’ll wrap it up,” Asa volunteered, tracing the waistband of my jeans. “I’ve already started notes.”
I shifted my weight then regretted the accidental tease sparking heat between my thighs.
“Okay.” I sifted through everything we saw today and prioritized my own list. “I’ll focus on the teacher.”
If there were any undiscovered connections between Tracy and the victims, we had to rectify that.
The Kellies were good. Better than good. Superb. But they worked tirelessly on all Black Hat cases. Any personal attention we gave this material bettered our chances of finding our killer before they struck again.
“I’ll call down to Atlanta, chat with my friend.” Clay got to his feet. “Maybe he’ll have some ideas.”
With assignments handed out, I climbed off Asa’s lap, and we set up our own computers at the table.
Heads down, thighs brushing, we delved into Charleston’s dark underbelly, searching for clues.