All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [66]
Fitz guffawed. “I wouldn’t worry my pretty head about that. Terrence doesn’t have that much pull. Besides, Hamilton was ticked as hell at Page because the jury acquitted Terrence this time. I heard he was really hot for her ass, and not in a good way.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Just pursue the witness/jury angle with Page, see if you can turn anything up. Keep your ear to the ground, work a couple of sources, see what shakes loose.”
“You got it, sugar. Rather be dealing with a criminal I can understand anyway. Drug dealers, pimps, the regular Nashville nasties. I hate this serial killer shit.”
Taylor was gathering up her things, trying to tidy up, when her phone rang.
“Lieutenant Jackson.”
“Taylor, it’s Mitchell. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Since you’re my boss, anything you ask me to do is actually considered a direct order.”
Her smart-ass remarks usually made him laugh, and this was no exception. “While I appreciate that you’re my subordinate, I have a feeling you’re running the whole show regardless. I understand you were at the accident scene this morning where Whitney Connolly lost her life?”
“I was. Sam and I were having coffee around the corner, so I tagged along. Why, is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong exactly. But I need you to head over to Quinn Buckley’s home. She’s Whitney Connolly’s sister.”
“I know who she is, boss. I went to school with them for a couple of years. They transferred in after their ‘incident.’ Besides, I don’t think there’s a person in Nashville who doesn’t know who Quinn and Whitney are.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a long time, and those girls went through a terrible ordeal. And now Whitney’s been killed, and it’s been a big shock from what I hear. Not just a sister, but an identical twin. Apparently Quinn Buckley is taking the news very hard, which is to be expected. I’ve heard twins have some bizarre connection to each other that normal siblings don’t have. Anyway, I’m getting off track. She told the officers that went to inform her of the accident that Whitney had been trying to reach her. ‘Frantically’ was the word she used. I thought you could head over there and see what ‘frantic’ means in Belle Meade.”
“I’m happy to. I haven’t been slumming in a while now. What’s the status of their case, anyway? Did the guy ever get paroled?”
“Nope. He’s still in and will be for quite a while. So I don’t think this has anything to do with their past, just their present. But if you would go over and find out for me, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do.”
“Where are you with the rapes?”
“Lincoln and Marcus interviewed the victim who thought she knew him. She’s wobbly, I’m not sure if she’s going to be the best source of information. But the boys told me something interesting. She’s saying it was a cop.”
There was silence from the other side of the receiver. “Do you think that’s the case? Could that be where the leak came from? If it’s one of our own, he could have leaked it himself.”
“That’s damn fine speculating, Cap, but I think it’s a little too soon to make those kinds of assumptions. I’m still convinced the leak came from outside this building. Lincoln and Marcus are chasing it down, I just sent them to talk to Betsy. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”
They hung up and Taylor finished gathering her things. She went out the back door, pausing at the top of the stairs where cigarette butts stuck like porcupine quills from an orange bucket of sand. She took a deep breath and kept walking, but stopped twenty paces away and dug in her pocket for her Camel Lights. Flicking a cheap, store-bought lighter, she took a drag. She rationalized for the millionth time. As soon as this case is over, I’ll quit for good.
She went to the car, rolled the window down and put the stick in gear. Blowing smoke out the window, she took off down to Broadway, then turned right and headed