If I hadn’t been so worried about Sean I could have slipped to the right, perhaps caught Mark Sands from a different angle as he took off.
“Damn it!” the chief said, slamming his hands on the desk and sending a pen flying. He glared at us. “This damn case stinks.”
“We’ll get him, sir,” I said. “He’ll have buddies at the trailer park who’ll talk.”
“You reckon?” He didn’t look convinced.
Which made me more determined, and more ashamed that he’d gotten away.
“Yes. And forensics are at his place now, doing a sweep,” Jonathan said, folding his arms, his knuckles pushing against his biceps.
“They’ll probably find a load of filthy porn,” Sean muttered.
“We’ll go and ask around tomorrow,” Ricardo said. “Ruffle some feathers at the trailer park.”
“I’ll send uniforms to do that this afternoon.” The chief frowned between us all, his gaze finally settling on Jonathan. “Where did you say you’d seen the perp previously?”
“I didn’t, sir.”
Fuck. If I’d been uncomfortable before, now I was getting ready to squirm.
“So?” The chief stepped close to Jonathan. “Speak up. Where’ve you seen his face before?”
A tendon flexed in Jonathan’s jaw, then, “At a club.”
“What club?”
“Downtown.”
“Its name?”
Jonathan glanced at me. “I can’t recall.”
The chief pulled his eyebrows low and switched his attention my way.
I shifted from one foot to the other. The guy didn’t hold a senior SWAT position because he was a fool.
“Do you remember, Officer Sweeny?” he asked. “I’m guessing you were there together.”
“Yes, sir, we were, but I don’t remember either.”
“Too many beers, huh.” He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Call yourself damn detectives.” He turned and raised his hand as he stared at the TV screen. “Go get yourselves some food and cool the hell down. We’ll be back on this in the morning. And Sean, pull a stunt like that again and I’ll give Sweeny permission to smack some sense into you.”
Sean stared straight ahead. He didn’t speak.
Damn the guy. I shoved my hands into my pockets and turned. I needed some coffee. And I needed to hit something or get myself to the range and shoot a few rounds. Yeah, shooting would help.
Chapter Nine
Later that day I went home alone, my apartment strangely silent after several hours at the range.
After stripping off, I showered, washed my hair and tried to empty my mind of the frustrations of the day. It bugged the heck out of me that Mark Sands had slipped through our fingers, and it sure as hell irked me that Sean had behaved the way he had.
“And he didn’t even apologise,” I muttered as I dried off.
Despite my efforts, I couldn’t relax. I poured a glass of white wine as I cooked pasta and salmon. I put mellow jazz on, and tried to think of my mother and aunt—her twin sister—in Tampa, who I’d be visiting in a few weeks to celebrate their birthday. I needed to get gifts organised.
But despite trying to distract myself, the case played on my mind. And it wasn’t just Mark Sands taking off, or my rash promise to the women of Miami at the courthouse. It was also the sorry state of the woman at the club the night before.