“Today?”
“Yeah. I know your shift doesn’t start until ten tonight. I’m betting you can work us in sometime before then. If not, I’m sure if my partner and I come down to Deuces, management will let you take a break to speak with us.”
The traffic light up ahead turned from yellow to red, and Kylie hit the brake just in time to avoid slamming into the car in front of her. Concentrate!
She took a deep breath and tried to think clearly. Nothing good would come out of making the police question her at Deuces. Better to meet with them this afternoon. How long could it take, given that she didn’t know anything?
With her fantasy of a long nap evaporating before her gritty eyes, she watched the signal change, hit the gas, and replied, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Chapter Three
Trevor tapped an evidence folder against his leg and watched from the monitoring room as Ian escorted Stacy into an interview suite. The days of the stark white sweatbox with a two-way mirror were gone, replaced by superior technology and psychology. With its integrated audio and video components and blue-toned corporate conference room decor, interview subjects enjoyed the illusion of privacy, and might forget they were participating in a police interview long enough to let their guard down and give up information.
All smiley, friendly good-cop, Ian pulled out a chair for their guest. Once she was seated, he perched on the conference table and attempted some small talk. With his rolled shirtsleeves, loose tie, and easy charm, he exuded relaxed calm. More like a desk jockey at happy hour than a homicide detective conducting an investigation.
Stacy’s replies, on the other hand, were stiff and cautious, and her body language matched. She kept her arms folded protectively across her chest. Although dressed in a casual white workout tank and stretchy cropped pants the exact color of her eyes, she somehow managed to look uncomfortable.
After wearing her guard down infinitesimally with his relentless pleasantness, Ian left to fetch her a bottle of water. Her stiffness gave way to fatigue almost as soon as he left. She straightened her long legs, crossed them at the ankles, and leaned back in her chair. A moment passed. She shielded her mouth with her hand and surrendered to a jaw-dropping yawn. The gesture coaxed a smile from him. Who covered their mouth when yawning in an empty room?
Finally, she leaned forward, rested her arms on the table, and pillowed her head on her biceps. Within minutes her slow, regular breaths told him she’d fallen asleep. Poor baby. She probably hadn’t gotten much last night. Stumbling over a homicide victim tended to have that effect on people.
Ian sauntered in and nodded to Trevor. “How’s our girl? Aw, look at that…a sleeping angel.” He palpated a hand over his chest and grinned.
“Yeah, she’s a heart-stopper.”
“That she is,” Ian agreed. “But while she looks like a slice of heaven, she lies like hell. Nothing Vernon Firth told me this morning jibes too well with her ‘never heard of him, don’t know him’ line on Carlton Long. She’s either a liar or an idiot.”
“She’s no idiot. What’d you find when you ran her?”
“Not much. Drives like a maniac and parks wherever she wants, but other than the parking violations and speeding tickets, her record is clean. I found a sealed juvie, but it’s nothing.”
“How do you know?”
“I spoke to the local deputy and he remembered her well enough. They picked her up for partying a few times—underage drinking, a little weed. She’s trouble with a lower-case t.”
“Local deputy, meaning not here in LA?”
Ian nodded. “She’s a transplant. Born and raised on the wrong side of the tracks in Two Trout, Tennessee.”
“Sounds rustic.”
“It’s a speck on the map. The municipal website puts the population at just under two thousand. Father unknown, but according to the deputy I spoke to, the mom is alive and
“Yeah. I know your shift doesn’t start until ten tonight. I’m betting you can work us in sometime before then. If not, I’m sure if my partner and I come down to Deuces, management will let you take a break to speak with us.”
The traffic light up ahead turned from yellow to red, and Kylie hit the brake just in time to avoid slamming into the car in front of her. Concentrate!
She took a deep breath and tried to think clearly. Nothing good would come out of making the police question her at Deuces. Better to meet with them this afternoon. How long could it take, given that she didn’t know anything?
With her fantasy of a long nap evaporating before her gritty eyes, she watched the signal change, hit the gas, and replied, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Chapter Three
Trevor tapped an evidence folder against his leg and watched from the monitoring room as Ian escorted Stacy into an interview suite. The days of the stark white sweatbox with a two-way mirror were gone, replaced by superior technology and psychology. With its integrated audio and video components and blue-toned corporate conference room decor, interview subjects enjoyed the illusion of privacy, and might forget they were participating in a police interview long enough to let their guard down and give up information.
All smiley, friendly good-cop, Ian pulled out a chair for their guest. Once she was seated, he perched on the conference table and attempted some small talk. With his rolled shirtsleeves, loose tie, and easy charm, he exuded relaxed calm. More like a desk jockey at happy hour than a homicide detective conducting an investigation.
Stacy’s replies, on the other hand, were stiff and cautious, and her body language matched. She kept her arms folded protectively across her chest. Although dressed in a casual white workout tank and stretchy cropped pants the exact color of her eyes, she somehow managed to look uncomfortable.
After wearing her guard down infinitesimally with his relentless pleasantness, Ian left to fetch her a bottle of water. Her stiffness gave way to fatigue almost as soon as he left. She straightened her long legs, crossed them at the ankles, and leaned back in her chair. A moment passed. She shielded her mouth with her hand and surrendered to a jaw-dropping yawn. The gesture coaxed a smile from him. Who covered their mouth when yawning in an empty room?
Finally, she leaned forward, rested her arms on the table, and pillowed her head on her biceps. Within minutes her slow, regular breaths told him she’d fallen asleep. Poor baby. She probably hadn’t gotten much last night. Stumbling over a homicide victim tended to have that effect on people.
Ian sauntered in and nodded to Trevor. “How’s our girl? Aw, look at that…a sleeping angel.” He palpated a hand over his chest and grinned.
“Yeah, she’s a heart-stopper.”
“That she is,” Ian agreed. “But while she looks like a slice of heaven, she lies like hell. Nothing Vernon Firth told me this morning jibes too well with her ‘never heard of him, don’t know him’ line on Carlton Long. She’s either a liar or an idiot.”
“She’s no idiot. What’d you find when you ran her?”
“Not much. Drives like a maniac and parks wherever she wants, but other than the parking violations and speeding tickets, her record is clean. I found a sealed juvie, but it’s nothing.”
“How do you know?”
“I spoke to the local deputy and he remembered her well enough. They picked her up for partying a few times—underage drinking, a little weed. She’s trouble with a lower-case t.”
“Local deputy, meaning not here in LA?”
Ian nodded. “She’s a transplant. Born and raised on the wrong side of the tracks in Two Trout, Tennessee.”
“Sounds rustic.”
“It’s a speck on the map. The municipal website puts the population at just under two thousand. Father unknown, but according to the deputy I spoke to, the mom is alive and
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