Page 32 of Call Me Anytime
“Shane and I have several leads we’re looking into. DFU is working on getting an address from one of the callers as we speak.”
“What about the labs?”
“Well, it’s obviously hard to retrieve usable prints or narrow down DNA from a hotel room, but CSI is doing their best to see if they find anything conclusive that’s not from the staff or previous guests. Preliminary tox came back for fent, but Booth is still running tests to get a more in-depth understanding for what type of fent. It’s clear this wasn’t a simple overdose. She was blindfolded, the injection was in the neck, and there were no drugs with the body. Booth has already classified it as a homicide. Just like in Gwen Bridges’s case, it would’ve been physically impossible for the victim to inject herself.”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m hearing. Wilkins updated me about the similarities this case has with the Gwen Bridges case.”
“Yes, sir—fent overdose by an injection in the neck and no obvious paraphernalia or substance to be found. Both murders occurred in fancy hotel rooms with roses and strawberries and shit, and both girls were dressed to the nines and blindfolded in the bed. They also both worked on the Ruby line at CMA.”
“Sounds like a pattern,” Captain Leonard says.
“Uh-huh. Though we’re not ruling out the possibility of multiple suspects at this point.”
“All right,” the captain responds through a deep sigh. “Get some of those callers in here ASAP and let’s see if they alibi out. I’ve got no interest in having to monitor these calls from here to fucking eternity. Not to mention, there’s no way Benny’s going to want to go to the judge for another tap when this order expires, so you better make the best of it.”
I’d say the fact that I’ve relocated from the van to actively helping Hannah with these calls is the definition of me making the best of it. Though I don’t tell the captain that. The bastard would get too much enjoyment from it.
I can already picture him taking a listen to the calls himself, even inviting Chief Willis and a few other officers to join in on the fun.
The playful ball-bustingthatwould bring my way at the station would be easy enough to handle, but I refuse to tempt anyone into invading Hannah’s privacy like that.
She already has more than enough bullshit to deal with.
Going out of your way to protect her? Interesting, Dom. Maybe you should, you know, focus on the job.
13
Hannah
Wednesday, May 15
1:00 p.m.
Monica takes a sip of iced tea and scrolls on her phone, looking for the TikTok she promised to show me about cats riding mopeds in little helmets. I lift my face to the sun and soak in the fresh air, enjoying our sidewalk café table for all it’s worth.
After another long morning of CMA calls with Dominic at my side, scribbling notes on a notepad to guide my ineptness, I’m emotionally and mentally spent. I know part of the problem is me—I’m a virgin working a phone sex line—but the added pressure of spending day in and day out talking to potential killers has definitely amped it all up to an eleven.
Don’t forget about the fact that you’re now trapped in your sex cubicle with the hot detective who is working the case ...
“Oh!” Monica squeals excitedly, holding her phone in front of my face. “Here it is!”
I watch with a smile as a cat in sunglasses and a helmet drives a moped in front of his owner, little paws on the handlebars andeverything. It’s stupid, but it’s also cute and adorable and one of the best things I’ve ever seen in my life.
After spending the first several hours of today listening to men grunt and jerk and heavy-breathe into my ear, I welcome cute and adorable with open arms.
The waiter sets our salads in front of us, and Monica tucks a napkin into the front of her flowery spring dress. Taking in her sweet blond bob and innocent face, I find myself in disbelief yet again over the way we met.
“Tell me again how you ended up doing this job,” I say, taking a bite of my Caesar salad.
“You mean, how did a sweet girl like me end up doing phone sex as a career?”
“Yes.” I grin. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
Monica giggles as she pours ranch dressing all over the bed of lettuce on her plate and stirs it around, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I heard about it from a friend of a friend—some frat guys had been calling for a while just for shits and giggles—and financial aid was only covering about half of my tuition. I went and interviewed with Margo.” She shrugs. “The money and the flexible hours were too good to pass up.”
I chuff. So basically, the same reasons as me.
“But, like, you’ve been doing it how long now?”
