CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kate stood at the kitchen sink, running hot water over the last plate from dinner—hot dogs and green beans. Not exactly gourmet cuisine, but it had been quick, given that she'd come home late, and Michael had actually eaten without fussing. And that always counted as a win in her book.
Allen appeared in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up from the battle of getting Michael into pajamas. "Well, that was an adventure. He tried to convince me that bedtime was actually tomorrow. And when I convinced him otherwise, he tried to make me feel guilty about not reading him another book."
Kate smiled. "How'd that negotiation go?"
"I told him all about Cliff’s Notes and then gave him a one-sentence summary of The Monster at the End of This Book." Allen grabbed a dish towel and started drying the plates Kate had set in the rack.
"That's actually pretty sophisticated reasoning for a three-year-old," she said. “The whole guilt thing, I mean.”
"I know. I'm worried about what he'll be like at sixteen." Allen put the dried plates in the cabinet. "But he's down now. Passed out about thirty seconds after his head hit the pillow."
Kate rinsed the last fork and set it in the rack, then pulled the drain plug. The water swirled down with a satisfying gurgle. "So, hot dogs and green beans. Should we call it fine dining or just admit we phoned it in tonight?"
"I think it counts as fine dining because all of our plates are so nice," Allen said, his tone completely serious.
"They are pretty nice, aren’t they?"
Allen set the towel on the counter and moved behind Kate, sliding his hands around her waist. "But you know what? I don't care. You're home. Michael's asleep. We have the rest of the evening to ourselves."
Kate leaned back against him, feeling the warmth of his body against her back. "That does sound nice."
Allen nuzzled into the back of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. "Very nice. In fact, I was thinking we could maybe head upstairs a little early tonight."
Kate felt herself relaxing for the first time all day. The case, the murders, Margaret Ellis, all of it could wait until tomorrow. Right now, she was home with her husband, and that was exactly where she wanted to be.
“Yeah, that would be nice. The book I’m reading got really good last night.” She chuckled.
“Man, you still play hard to get at times,” he said, giving her a little squeeze.
He turned her around and gave her a playful peck on the cheek. At just about the same time, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
Kate felt Allen sigh against her neck as he pulled her close. "Any chance you'll ignore it?"
"I've already ignored a few. Let me just check. DeMarco might be asking something."
Allen released her waist and stepped back, offering her a cute, boyish frown.
Kate moved to the counter and picked up her phone. The screen showed three text messages from Sloane, all timestamped within the last hour. Kate had been so focused on getting Michael fed and into bed that she’d ignored the first two. And as she read through them, she really wished she hadn’t.
She opened the first message: "I think I figured it out. Not a failed participant. A successful one. Someone IN the videos killing their competition. Can you meet me at the office?"
Kate felt her stomach tighten as she then read the next message: "Narrowed it down to two suspects. Going to check out Mary Latrobe now. Interior designer, graduated 2021, featured heavily in promotional videos. Address: 2847 Grove Avenue, Apt 3B. Will update you after I talk to her."
The last message was the one that had just come in: "Heading to Latrobe's apartment now. Will call you after."
Kate read through them again, already processing Sloane's theory.
Someone in the videos killing their competition…
In a way, she supposed it did make sense.
Hell, maybe it made more sense than the failed participant angle they'd been pursuing.
The victims had all been featured in promotional materials, all competing for Crawford's attention and promotion.
If someone wanted to maintain their position as Crawford's primary success story, eliminating the other success stories was a logical, if horrifying, approach.
It made a lot of sense, and she was glad to see Sloane following her gut—but not going off on her own.
"Kate?" Allen's voice broke through her thoughts. "Is everything okay? What is it?"
Kate looked up from her phone and saw the concern on his face. She walked over to him and kissed him softly. "Any chance you'd be cool with me leaving for another hour or so? Sloane might have something."
Allen's expression shifted from concern to something that looked like resignation mixed with mild irritation. "Like, an actual hour or an Agent Kate Wise hour?"
"Well, I just don’t know yet. Sloane's checking out a lead right now. I just want to make sure she's okay and see if her new theory pans out."
Allen was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But I'm making you a deal. If I'm asleep when you get home, don't even think about waking me up. I need my beauty sleep.”
“Uh huh. But what if I wake you up in ways that have proven very effective in the past?”
He reddened in the cheeks a bit and said, “I may be able to forgive that.” He kissed her softly again and said, “Go. Go get the bad guys. But be careful.”
Kate smiled despite the tension building in her chest. “Always.”
"And Kate? Next time Sloane has a breakthrough, maybe she could have it during business hours?"
"I'll mention it to her."
Kate grabbed her keys and her badge from where she'd left them on the counter. She could hear Allen already moving toward the living room, probably planning to watch television until she got home or he fell asleep, whichever came first.
As she headed for the door, Kate sent Sloane a quick text: "On my way. Don't go in without backup. Wait for me."
She hit send and grabbed her coat from the hook by the door. Grove Avenue was about fifteen minutes away… closer to twenty-five with evening traffic. If Sloane had just left the field office, Kate might be able to catch her before she got to Latrobe's place.
Kate opened the front door and stepped out into the cold evening air, already moving quickly toward her car and daring to feel that maybe this lead would pay off.