Page 1 of Investigate Away
PROLOGUE
Callie Dixon took a step back, planted her hands on her hips, and stared at the pictures of eleven different women she’d tacked up on a corkboard in her one-bedroom apartment. All of them were between twenty-five and thirty years of age. All blond. All slender in build and pretty. Two of the women were lawyers. Two worked as top executives for tech companies. One was in medical school. One a forensic lab specialist for the police department. Two more were professors at a local college, and the latest victim owned a series of upscale salons in downtown.
“Babe, I caught the bastard. What the hell are you doing?”
Callie sat on the edge of her bed and glanced over her shoulder. If anyone had told her that she’d end up in bed with Detective Jagar Bowie, she would have laughed in their face. Jag had to be the most arrogant, self-absorbed police officer she’d ever interviewed.
For the few years during the Trinket Killer investigations, she and Jag had not always played nice in the sandbox. As a matter of fact, they had tossed a few choice words at each other—more than once. He hated the way she’d covered the murders in the media, mostly because he thought it made both him and the police department look bad.
But at the end of the day, he was a damn good detective.
Jag was an incredibly sexy man with his thick dark hair, almond-shaped chocolate eyes, and five-o’clock shadow that he couldn’t shave away even if he took a razor to his face three times a day.
“It doesn’t feel right. It’s too neat. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What are you talking about?”
If she told him what she wasreallythinking, he’d be pissed as hell, and then he’d get dressed and leave, never to return again. But if she said nothing, she felt as if she was doing all of these dead girls a disservice. Her job as an investigative reporter was to not only report the news, but also to help aid in the resolution of crime. “I don’t think you caught the right man. I mean, I’m sure Adam Wanton did something criminal, but I feel like this is all some sort of setup.”
“Are we really going to start this bullshit again? We have so much evidence, both forensic and DNA. I know I can sleep easy tonight.” He punched one of the pillows and moved to a sitting position. “The case is closed. The Trinket Killer is behind bars. I’ve got my man. You broke the story first. Now, will you come back to bed?”
She scooted to the headboard, but she couldn’t let it go. Jag might have arrested someone, and she knew he was good at his job.
But something prickled the back of her mind.
Unfortunately, she’d seen much of the evidence that Jag had mentioned, and she had to agree that, on the surface, it all pointed to Adam.
Jag wrapped his thick arms around her body and kissed her shoulder. “Please, babe. Take the pictures down. You’ll feel better, trust me.”
“Be honest with me, Jag. Do you really think this is wrapped up with the perfect bow?”
“Wanton admitted it. He knew things.” Jag let out a long breath. “What’s still bothering you?”
“The lack of trinkets. Where are they?”
“What?” Jag smacked his forehead. “He leaves them with the body; he doesn’t collect them. Why are we still having this conversation?”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that a killer who leaves dolphin trinkets behind, who bought out an entire store, doesn’t have any in his home or car or office?”
“Maybe a little. But DNA doesn’t lie,” Jag said.
Callie couldn’t argue that point.
* * *
Detective Jagar Bowie of the Seattle Police Department followed the young officer through the woods. A faint layer of thin fog floated in the beams of flashlights. He glanced at the sky. The moon and the stars danced behind a layer of clouds, trying to shine their light on the scene below.
“A group of teenagers found the body when they were looking for a place to party,” the officer said. “They freaked out and ran to the parking lot where they called 9-1-1.”
“Where are they now?” Jag asked.
The officer pointed to a clearing about a quarter mile from the sound in Seward Park. Ajax Bond huddled with another detective and one of the CSI techs. He gave a slight nod.
“We moved them away from the media. How the hell did Callie and her camera crew get here so fast?” the officer asked.
“She’s a shark.” Jag couldn’t say it was because she was sleeping in his bed. Besides, that was only part of the reason. Ever since Adam Wanton had been released on a technicality two days ago, she was on the warpath.
At least she’d finally come around to the idea that he was the killer since the murders had stopped once Adam had been locked up.
