were wicked smart.
They all had gut instinct that would make a psychic weep.
It was that last part that made them good at finding justice and fighting for the truth.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
She pulled out her phone and slid it across the table. “Look at the pictures. Ignore the selfies of Roxy and me. There was way too much tequila that night, and she takes that girlfriend crap way too far.”
He snorted. “Okay.”
When he found the note, his hand actually shook. “Jesus.”
“Yeah, that’s why you should be worried. This is the first of seven. We’re about to be boned big time.”
He closed his eyes. “Maybe we should call in for backup.”
“Oh my God! Is that what I’m supposed to do, Silas?” she asked sarcastically.
“You’re pushing it, missy. No one likes sass on a good day, but today is a really bad time to push your luck.”
Didn’t she know it?
“Yeah, maybe, but the facts speak for themselves. I can’t call for help yet. The first thing the FBI will ask is how many bodies. We have one.”
“But the note.”
“The second thing they’ll ask is if it could be a prank to mess with us or throw us off track.”
“Is it?”
“How the hell should I know? I have one body and one note. I can’t answer that unless a second pops up.”
“So we’re going to wait until you find a second victim? That doesn’t sound counter-productive at all.”
She shook her head.
Bishop hated that idea. She really, really, hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it.
This was one of those things. It was the nature of the beast. Time was the only way to get more information about what they were working against.
“What does your gut say?”
“That we’re fucked.”
“Bishop! Watch your mouth!”
“Or what? My momma is going to roll over in her grave? Oh wait! She’s not dead. She’s off screwing half of Washington DC in her new life. She can’t roll over. She’s likely handcuffed to a bed.”
He looked appalled.
“Relax. I’m pretty sure everyone who would care if I cursed is focused on the killing—with the exception of you.”
He sighed. “You make me a nervous wreck.”
“This killer should make you a nervous wreck.” She told him about the body, what his granddaughter had found, and how gross the whole thing had been.
He looked horrified.
“I’m waiting on the tox, the trace, the COD, and just about everything else. I can’t move forward until I get something. Right now, it’s about doing the notify, perfecting the fine art of the media blow off, and bracing for what’s coming.”
“Which is?” Silas Reed asked.
“Let’s just say there are three jobs I wouldn’t want in this town right about now.”
He stared at her. “And they are?”
“Yours, mine, or Roxy’s. In the next week, we’re going to be the scapegoats if I don’t get something good with the trace and tox. All I have is a man who might have been pissed his wife was cozied up to the judge.”
“Half of Ravenswood was doing that, Bish. Judge Abrahms liked getting laid. He spent half his time on the bench and the other half under it.”
She was well aware. When she’d become a deputy, her father warned her to avoid the man. The judge liked young, hot women. Honestly, she wouldn’t be shocked if Silas had laid down the law with the judge, protecting her and Roxy.
That’s how he rolled.
“About the judge. Before we go spreading rumors…”
She laughed.
This was fact, and they had the proof. She had received one trace report from the house, and it was of the man’s bed. He had more semen and vaginal fluid in his sheets than at a madam’s whorehouse on a payday.
It was gross.
“As you can see, Silas, I’m waiting on something. Either I can be really patient, or I can be a stark, raving lunatic. That would mean putting pressure on Roxy, and she’s doing all she can. You’re going to have to hang in there.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Great. Then I don’t
They all had gut instinct that would make a psychic weep.
It was that last part that made them good at finding justice and fighting for the truth.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
She pulled out her phone and slid it across the table. “Look at the pictures. Ignore the selfies of Roxy and me. There was way too much tequila that night, and she takes that girlfriend crap way too far.”
He snorted. “Okay.”
When he found the note, his hand actually shook. “Jesus.”
“Yeah, that’s why you should be worried. This is the first of seven. We’re about to be boned big time.”
He closed his eyes. “Maybe we should call in for backup.”
“Oh my God! Is that what I’m supposed to do, Silas?” she asked sarcastically.
“You’re pushing it, missy. No one likes sass on a good day, but today is a really bad time to push your luck.”
Didn’t she know it?
“Yeah, maybe, but the facts speak for themselves. I can’t call for help yet. The first thing the FBI will ask is how many bodies. We have one.”
“But the note.”
“The second thing they’ll ask is if it could be a prank to mess with us or throw us off track.”
“Is it?”
“How the hell should I know? I have one body and one note. I can’t answer that unless a second pops up.”
“So we’re going to wait until you find a second victim? That doesn’t sound counter-productive at all.”
She shook her head.
Bishop hated that idea. She really, really, hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it.
This was one of those things. It was the nature of the beast. Time was the only way to get more information about what they were working against.
“What does your gut say?”
“That we’re fucked.”
“Bishop! Watch your mouth!”
“Or what? My momma is going to roll over in her grave? Oh wait! She’s not dead. She’s off screwing half of Washington DC in her new life. She can’t roll over. She’s likely handcuffed to a bed.”
He looked appalled.
“Relax. I’m pretty sure everyone who would care if I cursed is focused on the killing—with the exception of you.”
He sighed. “You make me a nervous wreck.”
“This killer should make you a nervous wreck.” She told him about the body, what his granddaughter had found, and how gross the whole thing had been.
He looked horrified.
“I’m waiting on the tox, the trace, the COD, and just about everything else. I can’t move forward until I get something. Right now, it’s about doing the notify, perfecting the fine art of the media blow off, and bracing for what’s coming.”
“Which is?” Silas Reed asked.
“Let’s just say there are three jobs I wouldn’t want in this town right about now.”
He stared at her. “And they are?”
“Yours, mine, or Roxy’s. In the next week, we’re going to be the scapegoats if I don’t get something good with the trace and tox. All I have is a man who might have been pissed his wife was cozied up to the judge.”
“Half of Ravenswood was doing that, Bish. Judge Abrahms liked getting laid. He spent half his time on the bench and the other half under it.”
She was well aware. When she’d become a deputy, her father warned her to avoid the man. The judge liked young, hot women. Honestly, she wouldn’t be shocked if Silas had laid down the law with the judge, protecting her and Roxy.
That’s how he rolled.
“About the judge. Before we go spreading rumors…”
She laughed.
This was fact, and they had the proof. She had received one trace report from the house, and it was of the man’s bed. He had more semen and vaginal fluid in his sheets than at a madam’s whorehouse on a payday.
It was gross.
“As you can see, Silas, I’m waiting on something. Either I can be really patient, or I can be a stark, raving lunatic. That would mean putting pressure on Roxy, and she’s doing all she can. You’re going to have to hang in there.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Great. Then I don’t
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