“Detective. My partner—who is also a certified jerk, I might add—has ordered me to follow up on some leads for a case we’re working on. I think he likes to give me impossible tasks simply so he has the pleasure of yelling at me for not completing them.”
“I know all about that.” She rolled her eyes and checked the door again. No one was hanging outside in the cold, so apart from distant traffic and the occasional sound of drunken shouts of joy, we were alone.
She tugged a hand from her pocket and offered it. “Megan.”
I shook her icy fingers, hanging on a beat longer than was proper. “Kobe Haven.”
“Detective?”
“I think they might regret that decision.”
“You’re a flirt.”
“You’re pretty. I can’t help it.”
She blushed and looked away. “So, what are you looking for, Detective Kobe Haven?”
I tilted my head to the side, plastering on a doubt-filled yet bordering on playful smirk. She side-eyed me with her own.
“I’m not sure you can help, Nurse Megan Without a Last Name. Although I appreciate the offer.”
“I don’t want you to fail your impossible mission. Try me.”
So I told her what I needed, a frighteningly honest rendition of my mission.
“You see the futility of the task? Locating an unnamed girl who might or might not have sought emergency care after a rape that happened over three years ago is akin to finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. I’m certain that if she came, she would have been a patient of Dr. Kordestani.”
“You’re trying to solve his murder.”
“In essence, but really, I’m trying to prove why he died.”
Megan nodded, seeming to understand. She couldn’t know the fury in my heart. The ache that wouldn’t leave me when I thought of a helpless teen girl coming for help and meeting Navid’s cold indifference.
Megan promised to assist with my mission, but the timing was bad. Her break was over, and the emergency department, like the police department, had brought in extra staff that evening to accommodate what they knew would be an influx of patients due to the holiday.
“I have a date the visit would have occurred,” I told her and recited the one marked on Yates’s unfiled report from back in 2022.
“I’ll see what I can find. Give me your number, and I’ll text you in a few days.”
She handed me her phone, and I input my details. Handing it back, I didn’t miss the look in her eyes.
“What?”
She studied me in a knowing way I couldn’t quite read.
She glanced at the doors to the emergency room as she stuffed her phone in a pocket. “You have a cute smile, Kobe, and you know how to use it, but your acting skills could use some help.”
My eyes widened, and she laughed.
“I thought you were going to ask me out,” she continued, “but then I realized you were flirting to secure my help. Attached or gay?”
“Wow. You’re good. Both. How did you—”
“I’m smarter than you think, Detective. I didn’t offer to help you because I’m a sucker for a dimpled smile. I offered because I hated Kordestani. I see too many young girls come through these doors as victims of assault. I know he’s dead, and if his disregard for human decency got him there, so be it. I’d love to see his reputation ruined.”
She pecked a delicate kiss on my frozen cheek and headed inside, calling out, “I’ll text you if I find anything.”
34
