couldn’t forget. She was intense, thorough, and immune to his perpetual efforts to elevate their relationship from dead bodies to each other’s bodies, something she explained to him after their last case when he asked her for the tenth time if she wanted to grab some dinner.
“The problem,” she said, “is that I get two vibes from you—do and don’t.”
“What’s the do?” he asked.
“Like I have to tell you.”
“Okay, what’s the don’t?”
“There are three things I want to know about a man right up front,” she said, ticking them off her fingers. “How’s your hygiene, what’s your credit score, and are you crazy.”
“I shower every day and my credit score is over eight hundred.”
“You left out crazy, and you’ve got a little too much of that for me,” Lena said.
“How can you say that?”
She cocked her head to one side, raising an eyebrow. “You’re forgetting that I’ve worked a lot of your crime scenes, including the ones when you were the shooter.”
“C’mon,” he teased. “A little crazy can be a good thing. We could be a good thing.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t do crazy.”
And that was the last time he hit on her until she was called out to Odyessy Shelburne’s house. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, she probed the smoldering ashes with a long-handled grabber, plucking out bits of fabric, tamping down any threads still burning before dropping them into a metal container.
“Tell me what I’m looking for,” she said to Rossi, who was watching over her shoulder.
“Clothes that Dwayne Reed was wearing.”
“Isn’t he the guy who walked on the Wilfred Donaire murder?”
“That’s him.”
“You still working that case?”
“It’s still open, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t found anyone I like for it better than Dwayne.”
“Why are you interested in his clothes?”
“Because I’m hoping you’ll find blood from one of the five people he killed last night.”
“That family over on Garfield? I was hoping to get called out on that one. Got stuck with this instead.”
“Yeah, Jameer Henderson, his wife, and two kids.”
“That’s four. Who’s the fifth?”
“Drug dealer named Kyrie Chapman who was shot to death last night. Don’t know yet if he was before or after the family.”
“Reed the guy who caught his leg on the fence?
“That’s him.”
“And you think he’s the killer?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Did he confess?”
“Not yet.”
“You can prove he did it?”
Rossi knelt next to her. “Not yet, but if you find what’s left of his clothes in the fireplace and there’s DNA from any of the victims on it, that would make my day. How about it?”
Lena put a final piece of fabric in the can and turned toward him, their faces inches apart, Rossi giving her his I-know-you-want-me eyes.
“You feel that heat?” he said. “Is that you or the fire?”
She winced. “It isn’t you. That’s for sure,” she said as they both stood. “Here’s the deal. I won’t find anything in the ashes, but it’s possible I might find something on these fabric remnants if they didn’t burn too much. The more ashes that were piled on top of them, the better the chances.”
“Why?”
“Because the ashes insulate the fabric from the heat. I won’t know for certain until I run some tests.”
“How long will that take?”
She shrugged. “We’re pretty backed up. Couple of weeks.”
“I’ve got five victims. Make it faster.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He gave her a broad smile. “That’s my girl!”
“I’ll do it for them, not for you, and I’m not your girl.”
“Yet.”
“Ever.”
“No chance?”
“You don’t give up, do you, Detective?”
“Part of my charm.”
“More like the beginning and end of your charm.”
They stood like that for a moment, neither one talking, until Tommy Bradshaw strode into the room, interrupting their standoff.
“What do you have for me?” he
“The problem,” she said, “is that I get two vibes from you—do and don’t.”
“What’s the do?” he asked.
“Like I have to tell you.”
“Okay, what’s the don’t?”
“There are three things I want to know about a man right up front,” she said, ticking them off her fingers. “How’s your hygiene, what’s your credit score, and are you crazy.”
“I shower every day and my credit score is over eight hundred.”
“You left out crazy, and you’ve got a little too much of that for me,” Lena said.
“How can you say that?”
She cocked her head to one side, raising an eyebrow. “You’re forgetting that I’ve worked a lot of your crime scenes, including the ones when you were the shooter.”
“C’mon,” he teased. “A little crazy can be a good thing. We could be a good thing.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t do crazy.”
And that was the last time he hit on her until she was called out to Odyessy Shelburne’s house. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, she probed the smoldering ashes with a long-handled grabber, plucking out bits of fabric, tamping down any threads still burning before dropping them into a metal container.
“Tell me what I’m looking for,” she said to Rossi, who was watching over her shoulder.
“Clothes that Dwayne Reed was wearing.”
“Isn’t he the guy who walked on the Wilfred Donaire murder?”
“That’s him.”
“You still working that case?”
“It’s still open, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t found anyone I like for it better than Dwayne.”
“Why are you interested in his clothes?”
“Because I’m hoping you’ll find blood from one of the five people he killed last night.”
“That family over on Garfield? I was hoping to get called out on that one. Got stuck with this instead.”
“Yeah, Jameer Henderson, his wife, and two kids.”
“That’s four. Who’s the fifth?”
“Drug dealer named Kyrie Chapman who was shot to death last night. Don’t know yet if he was before or after the family.”
“Reed the guy who caught his leg on the fence?
“That’s him.”
“And you think he’s the killer?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Did he confess?”
“Not yet.”
“You can prove he did it?”
Rossi knelt next to her. “Not yet, but if you find what’s left of his clothes in the fireplace and there’s DNA from any of the victims on it, that would make my day. How about it?”
Lena put a final piece of fabric in the can and turned toward him, their faces inches apart, Rossi giving her his I-know-you-want-me eyes.
“You feel that heat?” he said. “Is that you or the fire?”
She winced. “It isn’t you. That’s for sure,” she said as they both stood. “Here’s the deal. I won’t find anything in the ashes, but it’s possible I might find something on these fabric remnants if they didn’t burn too much. The more ashes that were piled on top of them, the better the chances.”
“Why?”
“Because the ashes insulate the fabric from the heat. I won’t know for certain until I run some tests.”
“How long will that take?”
She shrugged. “We’re pretty backed up. Couple of weeks.”
“I’ve got five victims. Make it faster.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He gave her a broad smile. “That’s my girl!”
“I’ll do it for them, not for you, and I’m not your girl.”
“Yet.”
“Ever.”
“No chance?”
“You don’t give up, do you, Detective?”
“Part of my charm.”
“More like the beginning and end of your charm.”
They stood like that for a moment, neither one talking, until Tommy Bradshaw strode into the room, interrupting their standoff.
“What do you have for me?” he
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