“Lee, Snow, and Subramanian. Did they all receive deliveries the day of the murder?”
Jason pops up wearing a bright red bow tie and white, button down dress shirt. “There is no record of deliveries.”
“Look again. How about a few days before?” Sam hears my interaction and chimes in.
“Please hold.” While Jason fetches data, an old typewriter clicks in the background.
Me? I take a power nap, waking when it returns. “All three victims had packages scheduled.”
“Did Jason contradict himself? He never makes mistakes.” Sam’s eyes brighten. “And what is the current status of those orders?”
“Lost.” Jason blinks.
Holy shit.My lightbulb finally goes off. “Our killer is a porch pirate?”
Grinning, my partner does a little dance. “We could force his hand.”
“No, Sam. No way.” To anyone else, her enthusiasm would be contagious but I recognize that face.
“C’mon. We can do this.” She reaches her pretty lips to mine and we kiss.
Then, I lift an index finger in front of her face. “First off, the killer has to know you don’t live alone.”
Sam pouts, jutting out her lower lip. “I’ll set up a fake persona, find an empty apartment. You’ll be with me the whole time. What could possibly go wrong? If we do nothing, someone else might die. You know we can get him.”
“Let me think on it a spell, okay baby?” I want this bastard in jail but I don’t fancy using my wife as bait.
She eyes me with her hands on her hips and scowls.
I’m not bossing her around, I’m trying to protect her but if I don’t agree, she’ll do what she wants. She could create a bogus identity but she’ll need my help to reel him in.
On the plus side, tricking him will give her something to do. Otherwise, who knows what other trouble she might dig up?”
While I weigh the pros and cons, beautiful brown eyes scan my face, as if to read my mind.
I sigh heavily, already regretting my decision. “Fine. But you keep me in the loop, y’hear?”
“I swear, I will be so, so careful. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, not yet.” Under normal circumstances, I’d insist we work with the police or the FBI but first responders are working their asses off because of the damn virus. Helping them remove a heinous killer off the street is the right thing to do. To do nothing would be un-American.
I tie my sneakers, squeeze out the door, and set a fast pace on the treadmill. I got a feeling I need to get in shape a whole lot faster than I first thought.
Chapter Seventeen
Sam
Before Suds changes his mind, I fabricate a new author, purchase a terrible story, and try to find followers. At the rate I’m going, it will take forty years to find forty fans.
Discarding this plan, I go with B and track down an author friend of Janet Snow. Afraid of the virus count, she moved south with her daughter. Her empty apartment is perfect for what I have in mind.
After I explain my dilemma, and agree to send a Patten bodyguard to her Florida home, she schedules a release party.
Bada bing, bada boom.
Suds, sweaty from his workout, sits down to study my plan. “What makes you think, out of thousands of events online, the killer will chose yours?”
“Not sure.” It’s a great question and one I haven’t yet figured out. “If I could only walk through one of the crime scenes, I’d have a better idea.”
