Page 6 of The Wolves Come at Night
She smiled ruefully. “Enlightenment. Not quite sure this was what I had in mind.”
They were on the mountain until dark, retrieving the body. The crime scene tech found the bullet casings, so now they’d have a way to match the gun, which the detective was thrilled about. “Every gun has a signature, just like your fingerprint. Find the gun, we can match it ballistically, and that goes a long way toward making a court case.”
He was ridiculously chatty on the trip down the mountain. He asked her repeatedly about what she’d seen and heard, then Simeon engaged him with a thousand questions, and Carson wished they would both stop talking. By the end of the afternoon, she’d added one more thing to her don’t want to be when I grow up list—law enforcement. God, what a bore, all the details, all the time they took with every little thing, crawling around in the dusty leaves searching for blood spatter, taking hundreds of photos. She didn’t have the kind of patience it would take; the attention to detail she observed was off the charts. Her mother would appreciate the thoroughness. And, Carson supposed, if she were being morbid, she’d be glad they spent so much time making sure things were right if she’d been the one lying under the branches instead of a girl who went by the moniker Georgia.
When they got to the station to make their statements, the police split up the two of them, Simeon walking off like a man condemned, stealing glances back at her. In a generic, chilly room, Carson provided as much detail as she could to the artist who came in to do the sketch of the suspect. The cops must have been satisfied with both of them, because as soon as she finished, a patrol officer was assigned to drive them back to campus.
The one good thing was Simeon. He was an inquisitive man by nature, and on the ride back, he asked her a hundred questions and offered to swing by tomorrow so they could have lunch together. She’d agreed.
“I’m sorry you had to go through this, Carson. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For a brief second, he looked at her, really looked at her, and she thought he might kiss her, but he just nodded and loped off.
Don’t be a dope, Carson. Simeon Chase is not interested in you. He’s just making sure there’s no blowback on him because of this.
Izz was all over her the second the door closed. “Oh my God, what took so long? The cops were so weird, they wouldn’t tell me anything, just made me repeat what I saw like a hundred times then dropped me off back here. What happened?”
“They found her,” Carson said, feeling her stomach turn at the memory. “Her body was under some branches. Whoever the guy was, he didn’t do a good job of hiding her. It took a while to secure the scene.”
“You sound like a true crime podcaster. We must have scared him off. Car, I’m so freaked out. What if he saw us, for real? What if—”
“Stop. You’re getting worked up. We’re safe here on campus. I promise.”
“The news was talking about it. They’ve identified her. Georgia Wray. She’s a singer here in town. She’s, like, semi-famous or something. She’s working on an album. The reporter said there were no suspects.”
“Except for the creeper we saw. They’re going to be looking pretty hard for him. I gave them as good a description as I could.”
“What was he like?”
“Dark hair, stocky, light eyes. Brownish shirt?”
“Silly. I meant Simeon.”
Carson smiled. Naturally, Izz was already onto the possibilities of being friends—or more—with Simeon Chase.
“He’s nice. More thoughtful than I expected. He said he’d come check on me tomorrow. I think we’re having lunch. But we’ll see if that happens.”
“Wow,” Izzy said, totally dazzled. “Carson and Simeon. Who would have thought?”
“Izz, come on. We’re not going on a date. We bonded over something tragic. I’m sure he’ll forget about me by next week. I have to go to bed. Let’s talk in the morning, okay?” Carson was already shutting down. She was exhausted, the combination of adrenaline and two massive hikes taking her down. Her legs were sore, her feet were tired, and her soul was crushed. She’d witnessed a murder. A murder.
“Fine. But you have to promise to give me every single detail in the morning.”
Carson thought she’d have trouble getting to sleep, but was out ten minutes later, the man’s face haunting her dreams.
Three
Metropolitan Justice Center, Nashville
Taylor Jackson hated her new office.
She hated not having a view of her beloved Nashville downtown. She hated not having a view into her Murder Squad bullpen. And she sure as hell hated the always-open-to-anyone door in her current line of sight, labeled with the word that now preceded her name.
Captain.
Better pay, better hours, better benefits.
Desk. Desk. Desk.
