Page 76 of Deadly Lineage
Pops had been alive a lot longer than me. He’d seen more and had the jaded emotional scars to show for it. While it was intrusive telling others my every little movement, I figured I could concede and answered, “I can do that.”
“Good. I will contact you with my plans as soon as they are finalized.” I thought that was the end of the conversation and almost said goodbye, but Pops stopped me when his voice softened and he said, “I love you. Our time together is far too short. Do not hasten death’s arrival.” Before I could utter a single word, Pops ended the call.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Franklin
I stared at the three coroner’s reports opened and littering my desk, each a near-carbon copy of its predecessor. Absolutely no help was forthcoming from that sector. Desperation was the only reason I stared at them again now.
My jaw cracked with my yawn. I’d spent the night camped out in front of Boone’s house. My car seat wasn’t exactly a Tempur-Pedic mattress. My back and neck felt like shit and my eyes needed to be held open with toothpicks.
“Rough night?” Harrison asked as she pulled up a chair while setting a cup of coffee on my desk.
“For me?” I asked.
She held up her own cup and nodded. “You look like you need it.”
I grasped the cup and downed half of it in one go. Thankfully, it wasn’t scorching hot. “I’ve already had three, but thanks for the thought. Never know, number four might be the one to do the trick.”
Elbows firmly planted on my desk, I loomed over the files. “I keep wishing something will magically appear.”
“There’s a lot of magic in the world, but not much left for police work,” Harrison sagely answered.
“True enough.”
Harrison was quiet for a moment before she said, “I don’t mean to be a bitch, but you look rough, O’Hare.”
I chuckled. “You’re not being bitchy—you’re being honest.”
“Some people mistake them for the same thing when you’re a woman.”
I swallowed more coffee and pointed the cup at my chest. “Not this guy. At least, not typically.” Inhaling, I scrubbed the rough stubble littering my chin and cheeks. I’d showered but hadn’t taken the time to shave. “Spent last night in my car watching Boone’s house.”
Harrison’s eye twitched. “Forgive me if I’ve got the wrong impression, but I thought the two of you were seeing each other. Is there a reason you were relegated to the car? Were you a bad boy?” Harrison’s tone was teasing.
“Not that I know of.” The truth was, I could have easily gone inside. Boone and I’d had dinner earlier and he’d invited me inside for the night. I would have been a hell of a lot more comfortable. What I also would have been was distracted. Besides, with Nikodemus Holland’s wards protecting his son, Boone was as safe as he could be while tucked inside behind his locked doors. What I wanted to see was if anyone came nosing around the outside, looking for a way in.
I gave Harrison the quick and dirty rundown and she nodded with understanding. “Makes sense. Hell on your comfort, but I get why you did it. I also understand why you didn’t tell Boone. If you had, he probably would have been out in the car with you.”
I chuckled and saluted Harrison with my cup. “All too right.”
“I actually came here bearing more than insults.”
“Yeah? Got anything good?”
Harrison held up a hand and teetered it back and forth. “Maybe? Becks contacted me earlier and said she cracked the password on Remington’s computer. She’s in the process of going through it as we speak. Hopefully, it will yield something.”
My face fell back into frown mode. “We need a break.”
“We do,” Harrison agreed readily. “We’ll get one. You and I both know serials always screw up somewhere. They get overconfident, sloppy, or a little of both. Maybe we just get lucky and find a clue hidden among all the shit. Either way, we’ll get this SOB.”
“Yeah, but how many will have to pay the price before that happens?” Considering Boone could be part of that charge, I was anxious to get this individual off the street.
My phone rang, the tone generic and not associated with any single individual. Glancing at the screen, I recognized the number and answered, “Detective O’Hare, how can I help you?”
“Detective, this is Gladys Campion. I’m not sure if you remember me or not.”
