Sense of Evil - Kay Hooper [103]
He stared at the fingers she held up. “That's a peace sign, Ally.”
“Well, I was never a scout. But that doesn't mean you can't trust me to keep quiet—until I get the word it's okay to report.”
He took her arm and escorted her around to the passenger side of his car. “I say we pick up a bag of tacos and head for my place.”
“Tacos at this hour? God, you have a cast-iron stomach, don't you? Besides, didn't I see a pizza delivery to the station a couple of hours ago? The poor guy was staggering under the weight of those pizza boxes.”
“One of the feds offered to buy,” Travis said. “Naturally, we took her up on the offer.”
“And you're still hungry?”
“Well, that was a couple of hours ago.”
“But tacos? On top of pizza?”
“It's Sunday night in Hastings, Ally; we don't have a lot of choices here.”
She sighed and got into his car, waiting until he was behind the wheel to say, “Okay, but only on the condition that you fill me in on the investigation so far.”
“Ally—”
“Look, either you trust me by now or you don't. If you don't, please be kind enough to drop me off at the inn.”
“So that's it? I talk or it's over?”
“Come on, Travis, give me a break. We're not lovers, we just roll around in the sheets together and have a good time. It's fun and we both enjoy it, but I haven't heard a suggestion that we start picking out china patterns. You're not going to take me home to Mama, and we both know as soon as this maniac is captured or killed, I'm outta here. Right?”
“Right,” he said grudgingly.
“So don't get all indignant with me now. I'm having a good time with you, and that's cool, but I also have a job to do. Either I get what I need from you, or I start looking someplace else.”
“At least you're up front about it,” he muttered.
“I am nothing if not totally honest,” she said, lying without a blink.
He eyed her for a moment and then started the car. “Ally, I swear, if you air one single word—or even tell your producer—before I give the okay, I'll figure out a way to throw your ass in jail. Got it?”
“Got it. No problem. So who's Jane Doe, and how did she die?”
“Hope Tessneer, and she was strangled. She lived in another town about thirty miles away.”
“And turned up dead here because . . . ?”
“Beats me. I think the chief and the feds know more than they're saying, but they ain't sharing. At least, not with me.”
Accurately reading the tone of his voice, she said, “They've brought somebody else into the investigation?”
“Into the inner circle, anyway.” He shrugged, trying hard for indifference. “Ginny McBrayer seems to be in their confidence, or at least of the two agents. Figures. You females always stick together.”
“Please don't make me call you a sexist pig,” Ally requested dryly.
“I'm not. And that's not what I mean. Women talk to each other in ways men just don't. That's all.”
Ally looked at him with faint respect. “We do, actually. I'm surprised you noticed.”
“I keep telling you I'm not an idiot.” He sent her a glance, smiling oddly. “You really should pay attention, Ally.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I guess I really should at that. Where're we going, Travis?”
“The taco place. If I'm going to spill my guts, I'm going to need sustenance first.”
“I really wish you'd used a different phrase,” Ally said. “Really.”
16
ISABEL STUDIED THE NOTE and then nodded, passing it on to Hollis and Mallory. “It looks like a sketch of handcuffs to me. Sort of stylized, the way an artist would maybe do it, which could be one reason we missed it. Nice catch, Ginny.”
“I should have caught that,” Hollis said, more to herself than to the others, and in a tone that struck her own ears as wistful.
“You're just all a little preoccupied,” Ginny murmured.
“Good thing you aren't,” Isabel told her. “Okay, a paralegal might have doodled handcuffs, I suppose, but having them on this particular note has got to mean something more than absentmindedness. It's one more indication Tricia Kane was involved, or looking to get involved, with Jamie Brower.”
Hollis said, “Any chance Jamie might have trusted Tricia