Page 92 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

Almost twenty minutes passed before he spoke, and she felt each one of them.

“Call Lance Howard. Tell him we’re ready for plea negotiation.”

Her stomach dropped. “But Zach, I thought we agreed to go to trial.”

He leaned forward in his chair. “This helps, but it’s not a smoking gun—and you know it. Let’s get what we can. If Henrikson knows we caught him on this, then he’ll sweat. You were right. He’s done this before and gotten away with it. Colton’s still looking, right?”

“He and Dorrie are going through all the old case files.”

“Didn’t Henrikson live up near Prince George for a while?”

She nodded, seeing what Zach was getting at. “I’ll call Dorrie right now.”

“We’ll let it drop in the negotiations we’re talking to the RCMP up in the interior. Henrikson’s smart, but he’s not infallible. If he has a tell, Remy, you’ll see it. You read him before, and you’ll do it again. This time, you take the lead.”

Nervousness and excitement fought for supremacy. By letting her take lead, her boss was showing his confidence in her capability. He was validating her abilities.

She took the file from him and headed back to her office. She was almost giddy with relief. A young woman was dead, and another was scarred for life, but they would get the son of a bitch responsible for the carnage and misery. That had to count for something.

Chapter thirty-nine

Remygaveinandcalled Rusty—to let him know she’d be late.

A fax’d come through from Prince George with a list of unsolved rapes and murders.

Her heart sank as she scanned the list. So many young women hurt. She and the corporals narrowed the list to two possible rapes and one suspicious death ruled a suicide. As she worked away with the cops, the electronic files kept piling up. The investigators up north had done a good job, but they hadn’t had a viable suspect.

Dorrie and Colton could now serve one up on a silver platter to the cops in Prince George. Instead of grousing, as sometimes happened when turfs were invaded, the other cops were grateful.

Before she realized it, eight o’clock had come and gone. They’d ordered pizza several hours ago and papers were strewn everywhere in the conference room. “Let’s call it a night.”

Dorrie and Colton looked surprised. Then Dorrie smiled. “Anxious to get back to your new husband?”

Her first instinct was to deny it, but she couldn’t. She’d missed bedtime with the girls, but she didn’t want to miss it with her husband.

“You guys need to quit also. Let’s regroup tomorrow.”

The cops stood and the three of them put the papers in some semblance of order.

After everyone had said their goodnights, she grabbed her empty briefcase. There was no way she was taking work home tonight. It’d be there in the morning.

As she drove home, she tried to keep her anticipation in check. Just because she was excited, didn’t mean she had the right to expect the same of Rusty. He might be tired. He might’ve had a bad day with two cranky toddlers.

Or he might have a smile on his face when he greeted her at the front door.

“Tell me.” He helped her from her coat and put her briefcase on the table. “Or are you hungry?”

The look of eagerness in his expression was endearing. That he’d been waiting for her at the door warmed her through like a roaring fire on a winter day. “I ate at the office…how do you know?”

His grin was quick, easy, and devastating. “I’m right, aren’t I? Something good happened today. I heard it in your voice. Can you tell me?”

She pointed to the living room and sank into her chair while he took up the seat opposite, on the couch.

He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, watching her.

“You remember that case I told you about?”

He nodded, and relief washed over her. At least she wouldn’t have to rehash that part of it. “We found more evidence. He’s hurt other women in the past. I know it’s a little early to get excited, Rusty, but I have a good feeling.”

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