Page 9 of Road Queens
Cassandra cleared her throat, which she always thought was subtle, though it sounded like a truck shifting into low gear:grrrrhhhMMMM. “Like I was saying, thank you for coming down.”
“It’s up,” Amanda pointed out. “Technically.”
“They don’t have to leave on my account,” Lawman Jawman said, because he was a helpful, hot, helpful cop. “You’re welcome to stay.”
Is this a police station or a wedding reception? Thank you for coming? So, definitely expecting us but didn’t call or send anyone to fetch us. Allows Cassandra to roam free with impunity and soup. What. The. Fuck?
“I know this is a silly question,” Amanda began, since the three of them—four if you counted the cop—knew the answer. “But who do they think you killed?”
Cassandra rubbed her scar again and grinned at the floor. “Franklin Donahue.”
After a puzzled pause, Sidney asked for all of them, “Who the fuck is Franklin Donahue?”
“No idea.” Cass shrugged. “They wanted to question me about the premeditated murder of a man I’ve never met.”
“Bum-bum-bummmmm,” Amanda intoned because what the hell else was there to say?
CHAPTER FOUR
Detective Sean Beane hadn’t been so excited about a case in years. Not that Cassandra Rivers had hired him, per se, but still—progress! Finally. He felt like doing a victory lap around the parking lot in sheer delight. He felt like making Cassandra another Cup-a-Soup. He felt like
(Get a grip right now.)
taking this all very seriously, as it involved serious crimes and serious people. And wonderful people. But yeah, also at least one scumbag killer.
He managed to cork his giddiness long enough to wave to Officer Dora Schoen, formerly of the Violent Crimes Investigations Division’s family violence unit, currently riding a desk to accommodate her last trimester. One would think the paperwork alone would be suicidally depressing, but not only did Dora plow through it, she’d also found the time to pick up the phone and pass on the tip about Cassandra. Plenty of cops knew about OpStar. But not so many knew about Sean’s long-term interest in the shuttered initiative.
So the elegant Officer Dora had tipped him off. And with the dignity befitting his professions, both new and old, Sean obeyed all parking ordinances and didn’t almost break both legs to get to the precinct. He even had a few minutes to spare, which he’d used to good advantage,introducing himself to Cassandra and politely prying, which people tended to put up with in a police station.
She greeted him with: “This isn’t like the movies.”
“Not many things are.” He stopped and considered. “Well. Documentaries, maybe.”
“I haven’t set foot in a police station since my mother ...” Cassandra trailed off and rubbed her scar. “Uh ... sorry, who are you again?”
He told her. The utter lack of recognition was both expected and a bit of a bummer.
“And you’re here because ...?”
“Because I want the same thing you do: information.”
She tilted her head to one side. “No, I mean, you, specifically, are here for what reason?”
“Information. It’s not a riddle to solve. I genuinely want to find out what happened. And don’t worry about the low-energy vibes you might be picking up from Precinct 2.” Sean gestured to the dozens of police officers bustling back and forth. “They’re getting it done. Well, most of it. You see, Ms.Rivers—”
“Cassandra.”
“—at first glance this could be an ordinary business office. Or a FedEx hub. Or a waiting room! Except for all the sidearms. But instead, it’s a building stuffed with men and women sworn to uphold the peace. It’s why crime doesn’t pay. It’s why everything’s going to be made right.”
“Wow. You should write propaganda pamphlets.” Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “You don’t believe that. Not withyourjob.”
“I believe most of it,” he allowed. “Depending on the day. Now! Let me set up a conference room for you and your friends—”
“Not necessary. And not friends. They’re not coming.”
He waved away her prediction. “Oh, sure they are.”
“They absolutely aren’t.”
