“How’s his hand?” I asked, wanting verification.
Ezra looked up, his expression calm and professional. “He’ll be all right. The doctor said he was lucky. The baking soda Broyles used neutralized the nitric acid before it could do any real damage. If Levi hadn’t been wearing gloves, he probably wouldn’t have gotten burned at all. I guess nitric acid has a strong reaction to latex.”
I stared at Levi for a moment, taking in his defiant stance and the tension in his shoulders as he continued his conversation with his superior. He’d gotten lucky. We all had. Every situation this madman put us in could’ve gone seriously wrong. His dangerous antics were juvenile in nature and a bit geeky.
I turned to Ezra as the thought marinated in my mind. “The man doing this has dropped bullets in a hot pan to make them explode, mixed sulfur powder with sugar and lit it up to create a stink bomb, and mixed nitric acid into glycerin to make a soap that would cause burns if handled with latex gloves. Don’t these sound like science experiments? Like the kind you see on television or watch your teacher perform out on the lawn?”
Ezra, standing with his arms crossed, nodded thoughtfully. “But he couldn’t have known the soap would be handled with gloves.”
“Couldn’t he?” I shook my head, frustration creeping into my tone. “He made sure that we knew the building was broken into by throwing a brick through the window and smashing my security system. He had to know that once I noticed the out-of-place soap, it would be collected as evidence. What gets worn when evidence is collected? Gloves.” I gave Ezra a sharp look. “I bet he thought I’d be the one wearing the gloves since I would have to get close enough to the soap to smell it.”
Ezra’s brow furrowed as he considered my words. “You might be on to something.”
“But what? All I’ve demonstrated is that The Scented Stalker is probably a Bill Nye, the Science Guy, fan.” My exasperation was real and kind of loud.
“Stop saying that.” Ezra whipped his head around, looking for nearby bystanders. “What if someone overhears?”
“About the guy liking Bill Nye?”
“No,” Ezra whispered urgently. “The Scented Stalker.” His lip curled in distaste. “I don’t want the press getting a hold of it because that’s a name that won’t go away.”
I made a face, unable to suppress a slight grin. “It’s catchy.”
“Extremely,” Ezra agreed. “And it’s the last thing the department needs right now. So...” He mimicked locking his lips and throwing away the key.
I did the same, hoping I didn’t accidentally pick the lock and slip up later.
“Hey,” Ezra said, his tone shifting to business. “I was looking for you because I got a call from the chief. When we’re done here, I have to move my team down to the grandstand on the courthouse lawn for the mayor’s speech. Chief wants all available officers on hand working security, just in case.”
“In case?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s his boss,” Ezra said with a smirk.
“And he’s yours,” I replied.
Ezra smiled, his green eyes softening as he looked at me. “Now you’re getting it.”
I reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Be careful, okay?”
“Always.” Ezra took my hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll leave Treece and Walters with you.”
“But Shawn wants all available officers...”
He dipped his head, his lips grazing mine for a brief moment. “Until we catch this guy, Treece and Walters are unavailable officers.” He brushed my jawline with his thumb. “You’ll stay out of trouble.”
“I make no promises,” I went up on my tiptoes, leaning in for a quick kiss. “But I’ll try.”
“I guess that’ll have to do,” Ezra chuckled. “If you find anything else...”
“I’ll call you first.”
“Correct answer,” he said, his voice alight with amusement.
Reese began to wave in our direction then she jogged across the street to meet us. “Hey, Boss. We just got fingerprints back from that coin you found yesterday behind the florist shop.”
“Yeah? Did we get a match?”
Reese pursed her lips. “We sure did.” She shook her head as if in disbelief. “It was a full thumb and a partial index finger match to Edgar Jones.”
