Excerpt from Investigate Away
Callie Dixon took a step back, planted her hands on her hips, and stared at the pictures of eleven different women she’d tacked up on a corkboard in her one-bedroom apartment.
All of them were between twenty-five and thirty years of age.
All blond. All slender in build and pretty.
Two of the women were lawyers. Two worked as top executives for tech companies.
One was in medical school. One a forensic lab specialist for the police department.
Two more were professors at a local college, and the latest victim owned a series of upscale salons in downtown.
“Babe, I caught the bastard. What the hell are you doing?”
Callie sat on the edge of her bed and glanced over her shoulder. If anyone had told her that she’d end up in bed with Detective Jagar Bowie, she would have laughed in their face. Jag had to be the most arrogant, self-absorbed police officer she’d ever interviewed.
For the few years during the Trinket Killer investigations, she and Jag had not always played nice in the sandbox.
As a matter of fact, they had tossed a few choice words at each other—more than once.
He hated the way she’d covered the murders in the media, mostly because he thought it made both him and the police department look bad.
But at the end of the day, he was a damn good detective.
Jag was an incredibly sexy man with his thick dark hair, almond-shaped chocolate eyes, and five-o’clock shadow that he couldn’t shave away even if he took a razor to his face three times a day.
“It doesn’t feel right. It’s too neat. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What are you talking about?”
If she told him what she was really thinking, he’d be pissed as hell, and then he’d get dressed and leave, never to return again.
But if she said nothing, she felt as if she was doing all of these dead girls a disservice.
Her job as an investigative reporter was to not only report the news, but also to help aid in the resolution of crime.
“I don’t think you caught the right man.
I mean, I’m sure Adam Wanton did something criminal, but I feel like this is all some sort of setup. ”
“Are we really going to start this bullshit again? We have so much evidence, both forensic and DNA. I know I can sleep easy tonight.” He punched one of the pillows and moved to a sitting position.
“The case is closed. The Trinket Killer is behind bars. I’ve got my man.
You broke the story first. Now, will you come back to bed? ”
She scooted to the headboard, but she couldn’t let it go. Jag might have arrested someone, and she knew he was good at his job.
But something prickled the back of her mind.
Unfortunately, she’d seen much of the evidence that Jag had mentioned, and she had to agree that, on the surface, it all pointed to Adam.
Jag wrapped his thick arms around her body and kissed her shoulder. “Please, babe. Take the pictures down. You’ll feel better, trust me.”
“Be honest with me, Jag. Do you really think this is wrapped up with the perfect bow?”
“Wanton admitted it. He knew things.” Jag let out a long breath. “What’s still bothering you?”
“The lack of trinkets. Where are they?”
“What?” Jag smacked his forehead. “He leaves them with the body; he doesn’t collect them. Why are we still having this conversation?”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that a killer who leaves dolphin trinkets behind, who bought out an entire store, doesn’t have any in his home or car or office?”
“Maybe a little. But DNA doesn’t lie,” Jag said.
Callie couldn’t argue that point.
Detective Jagar Bowie of the Seattle Police Department followed the young officer through the woods. A faint layer of thin fog floated in the beams of flashlights. He glanced at the sky. The moon and the stars danced behind a layer of clouds, trying to shine their light on the scene below.
“A group of teenagers found the body when they were looking for a place to party,” the officer said. “They freaked out and ran to the parking lot where they called 9-1-1.”
“Where are they now?” Jag asked.
The officer pointed to a clearing about a quarter mile from the sound in Seward Park. Ajax Bond huddled with another detective and one of the CSI techs. He gave a slight nod.
“We moved them away from the media. How the hell did Callie and her camera crew get here so fast?” the officer asked.
“She’s a shark.” Jag couldn’t say it was because she was sleeping in his bed. Besides, that was only part of the reason. Ever since Adam Wanton had been released on a technicality two days ago, she was on the warpath.
At least she’d finally come around to the idea that he was the killer since the murders had stopped once Adam had been locked up.
But now that he was out, Callie was just sitting around and waiting for Adam to strike again so she could rip the police a new asshole for how they’d botched the DNA evidence.
He nearly choked on his thoughts. DNA didn’t lie, but when you didn’t follow protocol, the proof got tossed, and then you had no fucking case, and a killer got to walk free.
He wasn’t the one who’d bungled the evidence, but it was his case. He had screwed up the arrest, and the buck stopped with him.
“She doesn’t like cops,” the officer said as Ajax made his way toward Jag.
He’d thought that about her as well until he got to know her better. “That’s really not true. She just gets frustrated with the system. And right now, I can’t blame her.” Of course, when they first started sleeping together, it had been just that.
Sex.
And really good sex.
But slowly it developed into something he’d never experienced before. They decided to keep their relationship to themselves, simply because it was so new to both of them.
“You’re defending Callie?” Ajax stepped in front of him and stretched out his hand. “Since when? You can’t stand that snake.”
Jag turned. Callie’s news van was parked as close as the barricade would allow.
He could barely see her silhouette through the trees.
Once you got past her tough exterior, there was a really wonderful woman underneath.
She had a big heart; she just kept it guarded.
He could understand that. “Right now, I’m pretty annoyed with how our system works, especially because I assume you’re going to tell me that our victim is blond, a professional, and is holding a cheap dolphin trinket in her right hand. ”
“You’re right. I am.” Ajax was new to homicide but not to being a detective.
“Fuck,” Jag mumbled.
“She’s over here.” Ajax pointed to where the medical examiner and his team had laid out a body bag and gurney.
“Any identifying marks? Or anything we can use to find out who she is?”
“We’re running her prints. But she has a tattoo on her wrist. It’s an infinity shape with the words sisters forever weaved into it.”
Oh fuck. How many women had tattoos like that? He suspected not many. Jag sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He did it five times, each time clearing his mind a little more. Seeing a dead body never got any easier. It never got different.
And he never became numb to it.
Seeing a friend murdered sent him down a road he’d never navigated.
He swallowed as Callie came into view, her face turned the other way.
Careful not to disturb any potential evidence, Jag circled the body, slowing as he approached the head. Her thick blond hair partially obscured her face. He knelt down and gasped. “No, no, no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Shit.” He stood. “Damn it.”
“What is it?” Ajax asked.
“I know her.” Tears stung the back of his eyes. He pushed air out of his lungs and tried to take a deep breath. “Her name is Stephanie Dixon. She’s Callie’s—the reporter from Channel 5—sister.”
“Motherfucker,” Ajax said. “I didn’t know she had a sister. How do you know she has a sister?”
“Long story.” Jag leaned against a tree. “Does anyone have eyes on Adam?”
Ajax shook his head. “Do you think Adam knew Callie had a sister and targeted her?”
“I don’t know, but that puts Callie in his crosshairs. Not to mention, she meets his criteria.” Jag rubbed the side of his face. “Before this gets out of hand, I should go get Callie.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“She’ll never forgive me if I don’t.” Jag pushed himself from the tree.
“Why would you care? She hates you.”
Jag chuckled. “You know how you’ve been busting my balls about having a secret girlfriend for the last two months?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Well, not only did I go and get a girlfriend, I got myself engaged a few hours ago.” He paused for emphasis. “To Callie.”
“No fucking way. You and Callie?” Ajax asked with wide eyes. “How did that happen?”
“No idea. But I’m in love with her, and I can’t let her stand up there and report on a dead body when she doesn’t know it’s her sister.” Jag had delivered more bad news than a Navy chaplain. Another thing that never got easier.
But he suspected this would be about the worst thing he’d ever had to do in his life.
A large crowd had gathered in the parking lot. Many whispered and tossed about the words Trinket Killer. He wasn’t surprised that everyone had already jumped to that conclusion.
As soon as Callie saw him, she waved to her cameraman, who immediately flipped on his light.
Jag gave her the cut sign. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
She handed her mic to someone and timidly made her way toward him. “What’s going on? You shouldn’t be pulling me aside like this. People will start talking.”
“Let them. I don’t care.” He curled his fingers around her biceps and tugged her down the path until he knew they were out of sight of the rest of the crew, who would be doing their best to figure out why a cop would pick one reporter to bring over to the other side of the crime scene tape.
He paused and held Callie steady. He stared deep into her eyes. “I love you.”
“You pulled me aside to tell me that?” She turned.
“Callie. I need to tell you something about the victim.” He grabbed her by the forearms. “Babe, this isn’t good.”
“What isn’t good?” She blinked. “I appreciate all that you do, but don’t go out of your way to get me an exclusive.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulled her close. “I’m so sorry, babe. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Tell me what? Just spit it out, before my crew comes looking for me, thinking you kidnapped me or something.”
He cupped her face. “It’s your sister. It’s Stephanie.”
“What about my sister?”
“She’s the victim.”
“What kind of cruel joke are you playing?” She shoved his hands to the side.
This was harder than anything he’s ever had to do in his career.
In his life.
“Callie, babe.” He held her wrist, tracing her matching tattoo. “I know it’s Stephanie because of this.”
Her fist came down on his chest. “What? No. It can’t be. We just had breakfast with her this morning. She was giving you shit for… for…” Callie took a step back. “You’ve made a mistake. It’s not Stephanie.”
Jag looped his arm around Callie and led her toward the body. The medical examiner and his team respectfully took a step back.
Ajax, however, stayed in his place, inching a little closer to Jag.
“Oh, my God. Stephanie,” Callie cried, starting to drop to her knees a little too close to the body.
“It’s still a crime scene.” Jag caught her and pulled her back a little. “I’m so sorry, Callie.”
She turned into his body and buried her face in his chest. “Adam Wanton did this.”
“I’m afraid not,” Ajax said.
“What?” Jag said. “That’s impossible.”
“The body that was found yesterday morning mutilated in that back alley downtown? Turns out, that was Adam. If you all had breakfast with Stephanie this morning, there is no way Adam could have killed your sister.”
“I knew he wasn’t the Trinket Killer, but you didn’t want to listen to me.
You always brushed my thoughts under the rug, yet I was right all along, wasn’t I.
” Callie glanced up at Jag, tucking her long blond hair behind an ear.
Her expression turned hard and cold. She pursed her lips.
“You did this,” she said, venom dripping from every word.
She poked him in the chest. “Because of your arrogance. Because of your bad police work. Because of you, my sister is dead. I’m going to make sure you pay for this, Jagar Bowie, if it’s the last thing I do. ”