Creep - Jennifer Hillier [91]
“That’s mean,” Jerry said, mildly offended. “Morris is a nice guy.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to insult your friend.”
Jerry ignored the jab. “My client is a nice person. Good job, makes a lot of money, lives on the East Side. Used to play for the Packers. He’s a catch.”
“Maybe you should date him.”
“Fuck you.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a minute, then Jerry said, “I’m at a dead end.”
“I figured.” Torrance sighed. “I hate to say it, but I told you so. Tao freaked out, and she walked. I never really thought this would go anywhere—you know I don’t hand you live cases. So you tell Gardener you tried, collect your big fat fee, and go on your merry way. What’s the problem?”
“Speaking of fat fees.” Jerry pulled a small white envelope out of his jacket and slid it across the table. “Here’s your cut. Thanks for the referral. But I’m telling you, something doesn’t feel right about this.”
“Thank you kindly.” Torrance eased the envelope into his shirt pocket. “But don’t think you’re not paying for lunch. I’m not spending my money to eat in this shithole.”
“If I’m buying lunch, you need to do me a favor.”
“Depends.” Torrance’s mouth was full of dumpling.
“Can you run a detailed background check on Wolfe?”
Torrance almost choked. “Are you nuts? That would be a violation of Wolfe’s privacy. He’s not officially a suspect in her disappearance because she’s not officially missing. And you want me to tap into the department’s resources to find out who he is? Why don’t you do it?”
“I can access only so much. That’s why I called it a favor, moron.”
Torrance stifled a belch. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”
They ate in silence for a moment.
“So how’s the investigation into the St. Clair murder going?” Jerry asked. “Any juicy details you can share with me?”
“You fishing for inside info?”
“Always.”
Torrance wiped his mouth with a paper napkin before speaking. “You know she was killed before she was dumped in the water, right?” His voice was low.
“I heard she was stabbed a bunch of times.”
“Forty, to be exact.” Torrance glanced around. “But according to the autopsy results, she was actually dead before that. The fucker sliced her throat, cut her carotid. She likely bled out in three, four minutes. You won’t see this in the paper. Not until we catch the guy.”
“So the stabbing was postmortem. That’s a lot of rage.”
“Oh, yeah.” Torrance nodded, sipping his tea. “Somebody hated her. Or loved her.”
“Or both,” Jerry said.
CHAPTER : 31
“I’m starving,” Sheila said when Ethan entered the room.
And she was. She’d spent the entire day watching chick movies on the WE channel—Pretty Woman was on now—and she hadn’t seen Ethan since early that morning. Her stomach growled as if to punctuate her words.
Ethan reached into his satchel and pulled out a plastic bag knotted at one end. He tossed it to her on the bed, where she caught it with both hands. She peeked inside. Half a roast beef sub on whole wheat, hold the mayo. Good.
“Six inches enough?” he said.
She gave an impish grin. “Usually. But it depends on what the guy does with it.”
Her joke brought a small smile to his face. Reaching into his bag again, he tossed her a bottle of Diet Coke. It landed in front of her on the crumpled blanket. She almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to eat a proper meal at a table.
“Did you eat?” She muted the television and sat cross-legged on the mattress. She twisted the plastic cap on the soda and it hissed. Still sealed. He was no longer drugging her.
“Not hungry.”
“Want half my sub?”
“I would think three inches would be supremely unsatisfying,” he said, and she laughed because she was supposed to.
He was still a monster, and she was still kidnapped, but she was making progress, and she wasn’t about to do or say anything to change that. Things had improved significantly over