Page 89 of Before This Ends (Before)

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I don’t think so I know it.” The statement is firm. “This world is better with you in it.”

Fuck I love this woman.

“Sleep Em.” I rest my lips against her forehead. “It’s going to be an early morning and a long fucking day tomorrow.”

“First,” she whispers snuggling closer. “Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

Fuck.

“My favorite color is orange. Yours?”

“Lavender.”

CHAPTER32

miles

Sitting in my SUV with Martinez in the passenger seat the two of us watch the doors of the small family-owned restaurant in the town Officer Kelly calls home. Hidden in plain sight the other officers parked in the lot do the same. Early this morning Martinez and I gathered a few detectives and set out to follow Kelly around on his day off, after we got a warrant and approval from Chief Marshall to set up a sting operation in order to retrieve DNA evidence from him. Over the last couple of days, we were able to confirm that his phone number matched up with the one from the bar’s records and that the pre-pay phone Anna had called and sent a text that pinged off a tower near his house. And although those two pieces of evidence will help in our case against him right now, they are only circumstantial.

“Do you still have eyes on him?” I ask Logan, an officer who normally works undercover with the drug unit, but who decided to help us out today. Then again there was not a lack of volunteers after the guys at the station found out the man possibly responsible for the murder of two young women could be one of us. Someone who took an oath to serve and protect. The only thing that pisses law enforcement officers off more than murders are murderers who wear a badge.

“They finished eating and just paid their bill,” Logan mutters over the speaker, and I grip the steering wheel.

If we didn’t need to have a clean sample of Kelly’s DNA along with a clear chain of custody for the sample, I would have gone through the trash can I saw sitting at the end of his driveway this morning when we drove by his house. But every single part of this operation needs to be done by the book with so much on the line. Which is why we’ve left the state police out of the loop, we didn’t want to risk Kelly being tipped off even accidentally. And since it’s obvious he’s had his hands on this case from the beginning that was a big possibility.

“They’re on the move,” Logan says, and even if I can’t see the men around me, I feel every single one of them go on alert. When Kelly exits the restaurant with his wife, I watch the two of them walk hand and hand to his truck smiling at each other. Kelly looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. My jaw clenches. I glance back toward the restaurant and hope like fuck that Logan is able to get us what we need before the waitress can clear the table they were sitting at.

This isn’t Kelly and his wife’s first stop of the day, they went to Walmart, and a gas station before coming here for breakfast but we couldn’t get a DNA sample from either of their previous two stops so this might be our last shot. “I got it.” Logan’s voice cracks over the stereo and my muscles relax.

“Thank fuck,” Martinez mutters from his seat.

“I’ll give you the all clear after they drive off,” I tell Logan.

It takes a few minutes for Kelly to back his truck out of his parking space and a minute after he and his wife exit the parking lot of the restaurant, Logan steps outside carrying a black plastic shopping bag.

After doing a quick scan of the area he walks up to the passenger door of my SUV and Martinez rolls down the window. “Did the waitress ask questions?” I ask while Martinez takes the bag handing it to him through the window and removes the paper bag from inside the plastic one and seals it with a piece of red evidence tape.

“She didn’t even notice, no one did. It’s packed in there and they’re understaffed. I got his coffee mug and water cup.”

I jerk up my chin. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem, I’ll see you guys tomorrow, let me know if you need anything else. Good luck, guys.”

“Thanks.” He taps the edge of the window, then walks off toward his motorcycle. As he starts it, and the pipes rumble to life, all the other officers including Tucker who came to help out today take off from where they have been parked around the building as back up.

“I’m going to call the lab and let them know we’re going to be dropping off,” Martinez says taking out his cell as I back out of my parking space.

“When you get them on the phone ask what the wait time is.” I pull onto the main road that will take us to the highway as he makes the call.

The tension in the cab is thick enough to cut with a knife by the time he tosses his cell phone to the dash after hanging up. I glance his direction and watch him rip his fingers through his hair. “How long?”

“Even with a rush it could be two weeks or longer with the backlog of cases they have waiting for processing.” It’s a sad theme in every case I’ve worked but with a lack of funds allocated to the police department we have to wait in line like everyone else.

“Then we wait and see what other evidence we can find between then and now.”

“You’re good with just letting him walk until then?” he bites out and my jaw clenches.

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