Speak No Evil_ A Novel - Allison Brennan [28]
Steve was referring to his health. “I’m fine,” he said automatically.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the detective follow Steve’s path down the stairs and around the apartment building until she could no longer see him. Her eyes then fixed on him. He approached her; she met him halfway.
“Detective Kincaid,” he said with a nod, extending his hand.
“Sheriff.” She shook his offered hand firmly, her skin soft except for pronounced calluses on her fingers—from time at the gun range. Her sharp, dark eyes didn’t miss anything.
“Call me Nick.”
“Thanks. I’m Carina. Sorry about what happened in the apartment.”
“You followed your instincts.”
“You didn’t look like a threat. I just saw the gun and . . . ” She shrugged and gave him a self-deprecating grin, making what could have been an awkward situation comfortable.
“What are you looking for?” He nodded toward the apartment.
“Your brother offered to let us come in and check out his computer.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Your brother made some statements about how much time he spent reading the victim’s online journal. We want to verify the information.”
“What happened?”
“What did your brother tell you?”
“That his ex-girlfriend was murdered—suffocated—and she had filed a restraining order against him a few weeks ago because they’d had an argument.”
Carina nodded. “A restraining order that your brother repeatedly violated, including the night Angie Vance disappeared.”
“What about her current boyfriend?” asked Nick.
“He’s out of town and we have a BOLO on him.”
Nick raised his eyebrow. “Her current boyfriend has conveniently left town? Before or after the murder?”
“I can’t discuss the details of the investigation with you, Sheriff. I’m talking to you as a law enforcement courtesy, but you have no authority here.” While her tone was cordial, she was trying to shut the investigative door in his face.
Okay, play nice and she’ll give up more, Nick thought. “What happened to the victim? Steve didn’t know the details.”
Carina mumbled something, sounded like a sarcastic that’s what he says in Spanish, but she spoke so fast Nick wasn’t quite sure he caught every word. But the tone and attitude were clear: she believed his brother was guilty.
“The victim was raped and suffocated in a triple layering of garbage bags, then left on a public beach. She was found early yesterday morning.”
Raped.
Nick pushed back the memories that threatened to return. They usually stayed at bay until he was alone, but the faint echo of a scream reverberated in his head. He was acutely aware of Carina watching him. He swallowed and said, “Any similar crimes?”
She stared at him. “I know how to do my job, Sheriff.”
“I wasn’t implying that you didn’t. I was just asking a question.”
She paused, assessing him. Whatever she saw, she must have deemed him trustworthy enough to share some tidbits. “Nothing in the area, but we’ve tapped into the FBI database to see if there’s a hit. I’m covering all the bases. I’m going to catch Angie’s killer.”
“Was there any unusual damage to the victim’s body? Something not related to her manner of death or rape? Something that might point to a repeat offender?”
“You’re suggesting serial killer.”
He gave a short nod.
She looked like she wanted to say more but stopped herself. “We’re looking into all possibilities, like I said.”
So there was something else. Probably a very specific mutilation, perhaps a message on or near the body. Something that only the killer would know about.
Nick assessed Carina Kincaid as a competent, focused detective who wanted to catch the killer because that was her job. Maybe if he understood her better, learned why she’d become a cop, if he could get her to trust him. Perhaps they could find a way to work together.
Some cops did it for the job, some for the power, but more often than not, Nick had learned that most people became cops for one of two reasons: family on the job, or because they had a personal reason for seeking justice.
Carina