witness you can intimidate. You and I both know that you have no right to demand my assistance. And I'm certainly not offering it. I was absolved of that duty almost a year ago, Inspector." She spoke the title as though it were a curse.
"And as for any other police business, I've got an alibi. And I'm all paid up on my parking tickets." She raised her hands to him. "Come to think of it, I don't even drive anymore."
He didn't so much as flinch at the sight of her crippled hands. The same hands she used to shoot with, box with, tie her shoes with, and write her name.
His imperturbability only made her angrier. "But. If you want to press it, I do have a very good lawyer." She turned her back and moved toward her bedroom, her heart pounding as it had constantly in her thoughts, her dreams, and her memories of that night. She fought the wave of nausea that followed.
"I understand you're going through a rough time, Casey."
She turned back and put her hand up to stop him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I had a psychiatrist, thanks. He was a fucking useless asshole, but he was a hell of a lot better than you."
The inspector's expression remained unruffled. "I'm not here to counsel you. I'm here because I'm an inspector. And I've got what I believe is a serial killer."
"Great. Congratulations. You want a fucking medal? You're in the wrong place."
"I want your help."
She just laughed. "Good-bye."
"Normally I'd let it go, Casey. But I don't want to lose another kid on my patrol."
"Then, call the fucking Bureau and have them send out a rent-a-brain, okay?"
She could hear Billy's quick intake of breath, even from the edge of her bedroom. Shaking her head, she forced herself to make the words form on her lips.
"Call Quantico," she whispered, then cleared her throat. "Someone there took over my cases. Like I said, Inspector, I don't work there anymore."
Jordan sighed and took a step closer and pressed on. "I can't. I don't have the authority to go to the Bureau. That's why I'm here." He lowered his voice. "You're better than the rent-a-brains, anyway."
She shook her head. Fumbling for her stance on shaky legs, she pushed herself into her bedroom. Slamming the door, she looked around the room as though it was the first time she'd seen it. For the first time, it felt confined and dark. She felt Leonardo's presence. Like in her nightmares, he was suddenly everywhere.
The flimsy glass window caught her attention, and she moved toward it. Dark bars shielded someone from merely breaking the glass, but how easy it would be to simply saw through them. All alone in the middle of the night, she would be helpless.
Billy had pleaded with her to get a better alarm system, but she'd refused. It wasn't about whether she thought Leonardo would come back—or whether she thought she could take him if he did. She simply couldn't bring herself to care what happened to her. She was no use alive—why not dead? But suddenly being faced with that as an option was terrifying. Casey took a deep breath and focused her energy out the window.
Across the street, a gardener stopped and removed his hat, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. His curly dark hair was wet and matted to his head. A thick mustache covered his lip. He glanced in her direction and without thinking, she ducked. Sitting on the floor, she actually wondered what size shoes the man wore. "Stop it," she commanded herself.
Pushing to her feet, she turned and closed the curtains, fighting to close the shades with her two knoblike fists.
With the shades drawn, she forced the inspector's words from her head. What she needed was a project, something to distract her. She wasn't going back to work, but she couldn't sit on her ass for the rest of her life, either. If she did that, she would be better off dead.
She took mental inventory of the things in the house that still needed repair. The locks on the kitchen window were bad. The back door had only one bolt. The alarm system was
"And as for any other police business, I've got an alibi. And I'm all paid up on my parking tickets." She raised her hands to him. "Come to think of it, I don't even drive anymore."
He didn't so much as flinch at the sight of her crippled hands. The same hands she used to shoot with, box with, tie her shoes with, and write her name.
His imperturbability only made her angrier. "But. If you want to press it, I do have a very good lawyer." She turned her back and moved toward her bedroom, her heart pounding as it had constantly in her thoughts, her dreams, and her memories of that night. She fought the wave of nausea that followed.
"I understand you're going through a rough time, Casey."
She turned back and put her hand up to stop him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I had a psychiatrist, thanks. He was a fucking useless asshole, but he was a hell of a lot better than you."
The inspector's expression remained unruffled. "I'm not here to counsel you. I'm here because I'm an inspector. And I've got what I believe is a serial killer."
"Great. Congratulations. You want a fucking medal? You're in the wrong place."
"I want your help."
She just laughed. "Good-bye."
"Normally I'd let it go, Casey. But I don't want to lose another kid on my patrol."
"Then, call the fucking Bureau and have them send out a rent-a-brain, okay?"
She could hear Billy's quick intake of breath, even from the edge of her bedroom. Shaking her head, she forced herself to make the words form on her lips.
"Call Quantico," she whispered, then cleared her throat. "Someone there took over my cases. Like I said, Inspector, I don't work there anymore."
Jordan sighed and took a step closer and pressed on. "I can't. I don't have the authority to go to the Bureau. That's why I'm here." He lowered his voice. "You're better than the rent-a-brains, anyway."
She shook her head. Fumbling for her stance on shaky legs, she pushed herself into her bedroom. Slamming the door, she looked around the room as though it was the first time she'd seen it. For the first time, it felt confined and dark. She felt Leonardo's presence. Like in her nightmares, he was suddenly everywhere.
The flimsy glass window caught her attention, and she moved toward it. Dark bars shielded someone from merely breaking the glass, but how easy it would be to simply saw through them. All alone in the middle of the night, she would be helpless.
Billy had pleaded with her to get a better alarm system, but she'd refused. It wasn't about whether she thought Leonardo would come back—or whether she thought she could take him if he did. She simply couldn't bring herself to care what happened to her. She was no use alive—why not dead? But suddenly being faced with that as an option was terrifying. Casey took a deep breath and focused her energy out the window.
Across the street, a gardener stopped and removed his hat, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. His curly dark hair was wet and matted to his head. A thick mustache covered his lip. He glanced in her direction and without thinking, she ducked. Sitting on the floor, she actually wondered what size shoes the man wore. "Stop it," she commanded herself.
Pushing to her feet, she turned and closed the curtains, fighting to close the shades with her two knoblike fists.
With the shades drawn, she forced the inspector's words from her head. What she needed was a project, something to distract her. She wasn't going back to work, but she couldn't sit on her ass for the rest of her life, either. If she did that, she would be better off dead.
She took mental inventory of the things in the house that still needed repair. The locks on the kitchen window were bad. The back door had only one bolt. The alarm system was
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