Page 22 of Marked

He nods. “Yes. She’s unsure how long the victim has been dead because of how well it’s been preserved. However, she states that the body was almost completely thawed when we found it. She left a little note down here for you saying that bodies take up to a week to thaw if done correctly in a cool environment.”

“Did she really? Or are you making fun of me now?” I ask with a lifted brow. When he hands me a skull-shaped sticky note, I can’t help but smirk. “I love that woman. She really gets my level of laziness.”

“As a detective, you really shouldn’t be lazy,” he points out.

“Seeing as you’re not my mother, you really shouldn’t be chiding me.” I retort and childishly stick out my tongue. Something heats in his gaze, and I instantly draw it back into my mouth. “Anyways, so, we have no real TOD for Jane Doe’s death.”

“No,” he responds and slides his chair back around to the other side of my desk.

I run my hand through my hair as the stress of the case doubles. “But the murders are identical. There’s no way it was a different killer. The question is: why would the murderer freshly kill someone and then a week later dump another victim at a different club? What’s the point of that?”

Jack shrugs, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. “I don’t know, but you’ll be interested to know that we finally got the camera footage from Crazy Horse.”

At his tone, I can already see how this was going to go. “Let me guess, it cuts out once again?” When he gives me a single nod, I sigh. “Of course. It would be too easy if it didn’t.”

“Agreed.” Jack says. “Latisha sent our vic’s fingerprints into the Las Vegas Missing Persons Detail, but there hasn’t been a hit yet.” He reaches for the Cerberus figure on my desk, and my hackles rise. It takes every part of me to not snatch it back from him.

“I’m guessing she sent off a DNA sample to the Missing Persons DNA Program then? I wonder how quickly the FBI’s database can match something.” I muse, but my eyes are transfixed to the plastic three-headed dog in his hands.

“The FBI’s Combined DNA Index System will compare samples across the nation but filling it out and getting the sample to them takes a bit of time.” He looks up and tilts his head at my intense stare. He holds up Cerberus but doesn’t offer him to me. “This is sentimental.”

I blink at his statement. My lips purse together, a denial on my tongue, but something tells me he’d spot a lie. I go with a partial truth instead. “My mom got it for me when I was a teen.”

“Kind of a random gift,” he says as he looks at the figure again. “Why Cerberus?”

I shift in my seat and look at the miniature guardian. “I became obsessed with Greek mythology after—” I cut myself off, tearing my gaze away to glare down at my desk instead. “After I almost died. Well, I did die, technically.”

Jack’s head snaps up, and I can feel his sharp gaze on me. “You died?” Why does he sound angry?

I nod once. “I think it was karma.” I blink at the admission. Never once have I spoken out loud about my speculation. With a dry swallow, I tuck my hair behind my ear and try to shake off the heavy feeling. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m still here blessing the world with my bitchy sarcasm and unparalleled wit.”

Jack continues to frown at me. His lips twitch and then press together like he’s trying to find the right words to say. His gaze drops back down to the Cerberus before he hands it to me. “What did you see when you died?”

Our fingers brush when I reach for the figure and heat flares across my hand and up my arm. I meet his probing stare and something in me turns spiteful. I don’t miss the implication of his question. Who is he to assume that I saw anything?

A snarl twists my lip and I rip the figure from him before hurling it across my office. It knocks a frame from the wall, glass shattering as it hits the carpet.

I take a slow, deep breath and relax back into my chair, not bothering to explain my outburst. “Nothing.” I respond calmly and turn back to my computer. “When did Latisha send out the DNA samples? Oh, I see her note saying she sent them yesterday.”

His look almost becomes pitying. “Valkyrie…”

I’m saved from biting his head off when my office phone rings. Snatching it off the cradle, I sneer my name into the mouthpiece. “Dalton.”

“You better pump the brakes on that attitude, dog,” Scott says.

“What do you want, kitten?”

He scoffs. “We just got a call from Crazy Horse that our person of interest is there.”

I glance at Jack. “Person of interest?”

Jack shrugs unapologetically. “I was about to tell you.”

The glare I give him non-verbally tells him that he’s an asshole. “He’s there now, Scott?”

“Yep, he’s a regular who usually stays for a few drinks and dances. Still, I wouldn’t chance missing him. Get there ASAP and find out what he knows.”

I set the phone down when my boss hangs up but continue to stare down Jack. “Maybe instead of prying into my personal life, you can stick to information relevant to our case.”

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