Crush - Alan Jacobson [117]
The morning came and Robby was lying on top of her—or, just about. They had fallen asleep, the candles had burnt out hours ago, and they hadn’t moved all night.
The room’s clock radio was on—probably set by the prior guest—and it was a good thing. She had not been in the state of mind to fiddle with it when she got into bed last night.
Vail gently rolled Robby over, slid off the bed, and shut the alarm. She would let him sleep in. She showered and dressed, gave Robby a kiss, and he stirred.
“I’ve gotta go. Roxxann is picking me up.”
“See you tonight.”
She winked. “Yes, you will.”
VAIL CLIMBED INTO DIXON’S CAR. Dixon shoved her key into the ignition and turned over the engine. “You know,” Dixon said, “it’s been kind of fun working with you on this case. That sounds bizarrely morose, but when this case is over, I’m going to miss partnering with you.”
“I feel the same way. But there’s something I forgot to tell you. My boss, he wanted me to come home tonight.”
Dixon, who had started backing out of her garage, stepped on the brake. “You—”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going. I’ve got the time. I’m still on vacation. I just won’t officially work the case. If push comes to shove, I’ll just be an observer following you around. Okay?”
“Works for me.” Dixon continued backing out, then headed toward 29. “So your boss. You gonna catch heat for this?”
“No doubt about it,” Vail said. “But I’ve had hotter.”
“You’ve . . . what? That doesn’t make sense.”
A few seconds passed. Vail giggled.
Dixon looked over at her. “You okay?”
“I’ve had hotter,” she repeated. “Last night, with Robby. Oh, my god. You wouldn’t believe—”
“You trying to make me jealous?”
“Sorry.” Vail tried to wipe the grin from her face—but Dixon started to laugh, and then they both lost it. Five days of pent-up stress tumbled out in a tsunami of laughter.
Vail rested her forehead on the dashboard as her body convulsed—and then she began coughing. As she fought for breath, Dixon’s phone began ringing.
Dixon cleared her throat to steady her voice, motioned to Vail to be quiet, then pressed the Bluetooth speaker to answer the call. “Dixon.”
“Investigator Dixon, this is Ian Wirth. You told me to call if I thought of something else.”
Vail and Dixon glanced at one another. Vail had to look away to avoid another laughing—and coughing—spasm.
“Absolutely.”
“Can I meet you somewhere? I’d rather talk in person.”
“How about at the sheriff’s department? Do you know where that is?”
“I do. I can be there in fifteen.”
VAIL AND DIXON ARRIVED a few minutes after Wirth, who was already inside, at the second floor rotunda, in front of the glass reception counter.
“Follow us,” Dixon said. She swiped her prox card, then pulled open the thick wood door. Dixon led the way to the break room, where Agbayani and Lugo were seated at a round table sipping cups of coffee.
Dixon nodded at them, then made introductions. “These detectives are on the task force, Ian. They can hear anything you have to say.”
He scanned their faces. “Are you sure?”
Dixon placed a hand on Wirth’s shoulder. “You’re comfortable with law enforcement. I trust these guys with my life.”
Wirth thought a moment, then took a seat. Dixon and Vail followed, filling out all the chairs at the table.
“Thanks for coming down, for calling us,” Vail said.
Wirth glanced again at Lugo and Agbayani, then said, in a low voice, “Isaac Jenkins was talking with an attorney. I don’t know if that’s relevant or not, but I just thought you should know.”
Vail and Dixon both leaned forward. “Isaac Jenkins?” Vail asked.
“Isaac Jenkins,” Lugo said. “He was the male vic—” He stopped himself and looked at Dixon.
“Was?” Wirth looked from Lugo to Dixon to Vail. “Is he dead? Another stroke?”
Vail ignored the question. “How do you know Isaac?”
“Isaac’s with Todd Nicholson. His partner.”
“His partner. In business?”
“Isaac and Todd are a . . . couple. But yes, they’re partners in business, too.”
Vail felt perspiration sprout across her forehead. They were onto something. Just like Robby said last night . . . a connection we