Page 61 of Lust
The man who’d accosted Mirabelle in the alley came to mind. Liza had beaten him pretty badly. Her knuckles still smarted with an echo of righteous pain. Would he have retaliated, tracked the teenager down and then lured her to her death because Liza had put him in his place? But the idea that this same man was also the serial killer Joe had been hunting was almost too coincidental.
Liza continued her internal dialogue. She found a conversation always helped her make sense of things. Like this fate business. Take Evan’s psychic drawings, for example. Or Mary’s old visions that had pulled her away from the Hildegard Sisterhood. Mysticism was never something Liza put her faith in. Especially not after the way she and her siblings were created. Besides, Mary always used to say, magic is just science we don’t know yet… or some shit.
Liza suspected the saying had originated with Gloria, their biological mother. It didn’t sound like a Mary thing to say. Mary was abrujatrained as an assassin pretending to be a nun, and a Catholic convert. And that religion came with an awful lot of mysticism and arcane devil and angel voodoo woo-woo. Who was to say what was a coincidence, or like Liza had said to Joe earlier, destiny?
She wrote the word “destiny” and circled it.
If it was real, then there was a reason Liza had been in that alley a few days ago, and it wasn’t to puke all over a potential one-night-stand. The reason had to be bigger than giving a runaway an extra day of life. She just needed to figure out what it was.
Banging, shuffling, and the sounds of desks being packed away alerted her to the late hour. The working day was done, and she hadn’t discussed a plan of action with Joe yet. She collected her notepad and headed to his door. She lifted a fist to knock—the door opened.
Joe walked out with his suit jacket on, his car keys jangling in one hand, and a stack of Manila case files in the other.
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
“Day’s over.”
A pause.
“You need something?” he asked.
A flinch inside Liza’s chest. “Um. I just thought that we should head down to the shelter and interview anyone who might have spoken to Mirabelle.”
“Already sent Geoff.”
“What?” She blinked, affronted. “But I was the one who suggested the lead.”
“I know. But we don’t have time. I have a thing, and you shouldn’t be out without me.” He glanced down at her wrist tattoo. “If I can’t join you, then you should go home, right?”
“I’m not some woman who needs to be kept,” she growled. “I’m quite capable of handling my shit.”
His brows lifted. “That’s not the impression I got today.”
“That’s a jerk thing to say while I’m in this teething period. Once I’m used to... you-know-what, I’ll be fine.”
“I thought you said if you’re not seeing me at regular intervals, you can black out.”
“It’s… it’s easier if I see you. Much easier. But not impossible. A couple of days apart is fine. I just need to be wary of it or revert to my old process. Anyway, shouldn’t we be working on the case?”
“There’s not much we can do until forensics are back.” Dark eyes contemplated. “Why don’t you go sit with a sketch artist and get a likeness of the alley attacker?” He reopened his office door. “Better yet, I’ll get you the old case files on the Ripper killer and you can get acquainted.”
He shuffled through some files in his cabinet and cursed softly. “They’re at my place. I’ll bring them in tomorrow.”
“I’ll get a start on the soft copies tonight.”
“Hard copies are better.” He frowned. “But, fine. You do what you need to do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Then he strode out, leaving her staring at his retreating broad-shouldered back.
“He just gave me the brushoff,” she murmured.
* * *
The following night,Liza stood outside Joe’s apartment with a box of freshly printed case files, some of Evan’s sketches, and Chinese takeout. This was it, the moment she laid it all on the line. She’d even brought a peace offering—a tiny wrapped gift.
He had been suspiciously absent from work today. No call. Just a vague “I’ve got Bureau stuff to do”as an explanation. She’d considered giving him space, maybe going to the church for a sin-equilibrium reset, but she didn’t want to. He’d either react the way she’d hoped or... well, she didn’t want to think about what she’d be forced to do if he responded badly.
With her hands occupied, she kicked the door instead of knocked, and hoped with all her heart that Joe would open wearing only his towel again.
