Page 81 of Little Girls Sleeping
“Thanks. Is that another compliment? That makes how many today?” she said, good- humoredly.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, breaking down those boot-camp walls.”
“How much do I owe you, Doc?”
“I’m hungry. Buy me lunch,” he said.
“You got it.”
“And then you need a nap,” he added.
Katie drove to a local diner, where they ate together, comparing notes and theories about the case. Afterwards, she dropped him back at the sheriff’s department on her way home.
Forty-One
Detective Rory Templeton left Judge Wade Jeffries’ chambers after a long and interesting conversation in the early hours. Dressed in casual clothes—jeans, flannel shirt, and work boots—he hurried to his truck.
The morning sun peeked through the tall trees and made an appearance just above the surrounding rooftops. The energizing yellow-orange sky helped to lift Templeton’s mood, especially now that he had received the green light to move forward.
A perfect plan.
As he jumped into the driver’s seat, the detective couldn’t wipe the smug expression off his face. The Chelsea Compton case would soon be closed once and for all. No one, absolutely no one, was going to make him look bad. The final outcome would be up to a jury, and frankly, he didn’t care about the conclusion because he’d done his job and closed the case.
He started his truck, giving it extra gas, and hastily backed out of the county building’s parking lot, tools rattling in the back. He knew that no one would see him; he wasn’t as recognizable in his casual clothes and he’d made sure to take one of his other vehicles.
His recollection of the conversation with Judge Jeffries kept him company as he drove home to get ready for work. He had a knack for finding out anything unethical or dirty where county employees were concerned. The bonus this time was the explicit photographs he’d managed to obtain of the judge and several sexual partners who didn’t include his wife. It didn’t take much after he had explained that he needed a search warrant based on circumstantial evidence because it was necessary to close the cases and to make the community, as well as the police department, content.
Everything was falling into place.
As Templeton thought about Katie Scott, he clenched his jaw. Soon she would fall off her high horse and everyone would see who she really was—a fraud, a poser, and a wannabe in the law-enforcement world. He would make sure her career at the department ended as soon as an arrest was made in the Compton and Myers cases. She had no business being promoted to detective over much more qualified officers and given a high-profile serial case.
He flipped on the radio and cranked the music loud. The beat infused his body as he thought about finally bringing this case to an end. He sped down the main road and took a sharp right, merging onto a country road. There were a few things he needed to do before arriving at the sheriff’s office.
Forty-Two
The ringing of Katie’s cell phone ousted her from a pleasant dream at 7.15 a.m. She blindly reached for the phone on her nightstand and looked at the incoming number—it was Chad.
“Hel-lo,” she said, managing to pick up in the moment before her phone went to voicemail.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She sat up, trying to focus her eyes. Cisco was lying on the other side of her bed.
“I’m surprised.”
“About what?” she said, trying to clear the grogginess from her voice.
“I thought you’d be working hard on the case. Hammering out more details.”
“I was up until two a.m. doing just that.”
“That’s why I’m calling. What are you doing this morning?” he asked.
“Working,” she said.
“At home or in the office?”
“The crime scene.”
