Page 38 of Ace of Spades
“I think our man was watching us.”
“Seriously?” She didn’t like how his eyes shifted away from her. He was hiding something. “And?”
He leveled his gaze on her. “And we need to talk, but not here.” He glanced at the car coming around the corner of the store. “That’s the M.E. Show me what you found and then let’s get out of here.”
Something about Nate’s demeanor made her nervous, but she shook it off. “Look here.” She knelt next to their victim’s head, picking up a section of hair shorter than the rest. “Someone cut off a piece of her hair. I almost missed it.”
The M.E. walked up, and Taylor switched her attention to him. “Hey, Reg. Check this out. We need to know if the other women had any hair cut off. It would have been easy to miss since we didn’t know to look for it. If we find the same thing, then he’s keeping souvenirs.”
“The first body was claimed by the family and cremated, but the other two are still in the morgue.” The M.E. bent over, studying the hair Taylor held. “Sorry for missing that.”
“I only noticed because of the way her hair had parted.” Taylor stood. “Give me a call tomorrow and let me know what you find.” She tugged off her rubber gloves. “We need you to put a priority on the autopsy.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” She glanced over at Nate, not liking his troubled eyes. “Ready?” When his gaze flicked to Laura, she caught some kind of message passing between them. What the hell was going on? She waved to Laura and Jerry, the other crime scene tech, then followed Nate to her car.
“Okay, spill,” Taylor said when they were at her place. Nate had refused to tell her what was on his mind on the drive back—had, in fact, gone into silent-brooding mode.
He glanced at the empty fish tank. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
“You’re scaring me, Nate.”
Instead of reassuring her, he poured a glass of wine, setting it on the table. “Sit,” he said, pulling a chair out for her, and then taking a seat across from her. He clasped his hands, resting them on the table.
“Stop staring at your knuckles and start talking.” She’d never seen him like this. Yeah, he was sometimes a moody man, but whatever this was, it had to do with her, something he dreaded telling her. She couldn’t imagine what would have him this rattled, but his silence sent her heart to pounding, and not in a good way.
Black eyes lifted to hers, pity swirling in them. “Our killer left something at the scene. A picture ... a Polaroid, to be exact.”
“And?” she said when he paused. She still didn’t know what this was about, but suddenly, she was sweating. Realizing she still had her FBI jacket on, she tugged it off, tossing it on the chair next to her.
“I should have called Rothmire with this first.” He motioned at her wine glass. “Maybe you should drink some of that.”
“Dammit, Nate, I’m about three seconds away from shooting you. Talk. Now.”
“Yeah, it’s just that I don’t know how to tell you this.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, already showing the beginning of a beard.
When he’d picked her up—how many hours ago? It seemed like days now—she’d noticed that he’d shaved, but she liked his scruffy-faced look best. And why was she even noticing that his beard was already growing back in when she was sure he was about to turn her world on its end? Why else was he having trouble looking her in the eyes if that wasn’t the case?
“Nate,” she practically growled.
He reached over, putting his hand on top of hers. “He left a photo of your mother.”
She stared for a moment at his big hand covering hers—as if in some kind of protective gesture—confused as to what he was trying to say. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry, tiger. It must have been taken right after she was murdered. I think our bad guy was your mother’s killer, or he’s been in touch with whoever was.”
His voice was so soft, so filled with compassion, that in that moment she hated him. She yanked her hand away, resenting his pity. “I don’t believe you.” It wasn’t possible.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry.” She pushed away from the table, and in six steps she was standing in the middle of her living room. The walls were closing in around her, and for the first time, she wished she had a bigger apartment. Enough room to pace, to breathe. Nate walkedup next to her, but as if he understood she couldn’t bear it, he didn’t touch her.
“I want to see the photo.”
“No, you don’t. You’re going to have to take my word for it, at least for tonight. When you’re calm, if you still do, then I’ll show it to you.”
“That’s not your decision to make.” She poked him in the chest, fury burning a searing path through her. “I’m a part of this investigation, and that’s evidence, which I have a right to see.”
“I’m sorry, Taylor, but I’m taking you off the case.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “The hell you are.”
