Justice. Debra Webb
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workroom for files.
“Good morning, Shirley.” Kayla offered her usual smile and saluted the middle-age lady with her take-out coffee cup. It wasn’t that Shirley didn’t make good coffee, it was just that Jim usually beat Shirley into the office and his coffee made paint thinner smell good. Kayla’d never worked up the nerve to try it.
“Morning, L.T.” Shirley said this with nothing more than a cursory glance over her morning newspaper. “Heard about the excitement yesterday. Thought you had the day off.”
“L.T.” was Shirley’s way of showing off that she’d spent twenty-plus years as a military wife. She referred to Kayla as her husband had the lieutenants in the Army. Her remarks about yesterday’s little bust were nothing more than roundabout inquiries as to what Kayla had been doing working on her day off without her partner. Which also meant that Jim and Shirley had talked. The two considered her their errant cub that needed guidance as well as protection.
“You know how it goes,” Kayla offered nonchalantly, but there was nothing casual about the way she braced herself for facing her partner. He’d already said plenty on the phone. He’d no doubt saved his best disciplinary remarks for this morning when they would be face-to-face.
In reality Kayla outranked Jim, but he’d been in this business twenty years longer than her so to his way of thinking, he was senior.
Couldn’t argue that. Most of the time, anyway.
“Good morning, Jim,” she said, all smiles and as chipper as hell as she strode into their office. If he wanted a fight he’d have to start it.
He growled something that resembled “morning”, then folded his newspaper into a wadlike mass and tossed it aside.
“So tell me again how you got this anonymous tip.”
Kayla sat down at the desk that faced her partner’s. She propped her feet on the edge and crossed them at the ankles, then took a long swallow from her coffee. Might as well let him stew another few seconds. She swallowed and made a contented sound in her throat. Jim’s left eyebrow arched, indicating his patience had reached an end.
Eventually she shrugged. “I was at home minding my own business and the phone rang. End of story.” The statement sounded like a truly bad lie but it was the God’s truth. She understood that it was unusual. But a good cop took tips anywhere she could get them. They didn’t always pan out but this one had.
His elbows propped on the arms of his chair, Jim steepled his fingers. “It didn’t cross your mind that the whole scenario went down a little too smoothly?”
“Sure it did.” She sipped her designer coffee blend. “I figure the snitch was someone the perp had pissed off. Somebody who wanted revenge.”
“Or maybe someone who wanted to throw the cops off his own scent.”
That had entered her mind as well. “It’s possible.”
“Investigator Devon says one of the guys is trying to cop a plea. He wants immunity for what he knows.”
Kayla sat up, her county-issue shoes slapping against the tile floor. “Does he have anything that important?”
Jim kept his expression closed but Kayla didn’t miss the flicker of a smile around one corner of his mouth. “He says he can give us the number one player, who deals not only in bikes but cars.”
Now that would be a major coup. “We should go down and see what he has to say.” Anticipation bubbled like an uncorked bottle of champagne.
Jim shook his head and held up one hand. “Can’t do that. Devon doesn’t want us anywhere near this guy. Apparently the perp’s still a little ticked off that you shot him. Even threatened to sue for excessive force.”
Kayla swore. “It wasn’t like I was aiming for his artery. I was just trying to keep him from running. If I’d wanted him dead I would have aimed a few feet higher.”
“He could walk,” Jim said, his tone as well as his expression solemn. “If he rolls over on a player that big, he could walk.” His gaze leveled on hers. “There’s always the possibility that he’ll want to get even.”
Kayla absorbed the implications of that statement. In this line of work there was always that possibility. But it didn’t make the prospect any easier to deal with, especially not with a young daughter at home. “Is Devon going to keep us informed?” Investigator Steve Devon was generally very good about keeping the cops who made the collars up to speed, but this time could prove different.
“I’m sure he will.” Jim leaned forward, braced his arms on his desk. “Tell me how your friend Detective Hadden got involved.”
She’d known that one was coming. Even an old dog like Harkey could get jealous when someone invaded his territory. Kayla would need to tread carefully here. Yesterday she’d done what she had to do, and today she had to smooth her partner’s ruffled feathers. Jim would have done the same thing if the situation had been reversed. For that she felt no guilt.
The big difference between the two of them was that Jim would have found her yesterday. He wouldn’t have given up until he did. Maybe she hadn’t tried as hard as she should have to locate him. She’d wanted those guys. Wanted them bad. Had the fire burning in her belly to finally bring them down adversely affected her judgment?
Maybe she had stayed in this job too long. Gotten too cocky. Too self-assured. It happened to the best.
Just something else she’d have to consider. Her years at Athena Academy had planted the yearning for growth, for advancement, deep inside her. Maybe she was fooling herself by thinking she could be happy staying at this level any longer. When she considered the high-profile careers of her fellow Cassandras she had to admit that even Darcy’s self-made private investigations business and covert support of abused women took a big leap out of the box.
Was complacency Kayla’s real problem? Professionally as well as personally? She didn’t want to believe there was any truth to that theory, but could she risk being wrong? One glance at Jim’s expectant expression and she knew she’d better get him placated first.
The infirmary at Athena Academy looked deserted. Giving Nurse Betsy Stone grace, it was lunchtime. Still, Kayla had called and left a message. It seemed that Betsy Stone either never got her messages or chose to ignore them.
The latter fit more conveniently into Kayla’s profile of the woman. She was avoiding further questioning.
Kayla shuffled around the room and considered reviewing more of the files, but it felt like a monumental waste of time. For three months she had been using every opportunity to look into the files.
It wasn’t always easy. Not that Christine or the school hadn’t cooperated. To the contrary, Christine had pretty much given Kayla carte blanche. But it took time to go through decades of files. Thousands of young women had passed through these walls. There were only so many chances within a given week. Kayla did have a job and a daughter, both of which had to come first.
Still, she had spent several hours each week during the past three months reviewing and analyzing data. And what had she learned? Not much.
Rainy had been an outstanding student. Physically, she had been an excellent candidate, if one were looking for a good specimen on which to experiment. But why here? Who was responsible for allowing it to happen?
The first question was a no-brainer. Here, because attendees of Athena Academy were the cream of the cream of the crop. The second question needed answering.
The invitation Jazz had received in the mail flashed through her mind. Definitely she would not rest until she had solved this puzzle.
According to Cleo Patra, the one surrogate they had located alive in the investigation, she had been under Dr. Reagan’s care in Phoenix. According to what Kayla had learned so far, Reagan was indeed dead. His files were who knows where. Kayla desperately wanted to find those files. She had a feeling that answers lay within those