“Darth paid with a Visa gift card. Untraceable—with our resources, anyway—and I really don’t think the Feds are gonna be willing to do you solid on this one.”
Gage, who’d finally joined the conversation, hovered over my shoulder. “Why are you so sure it’s a man?”
I blinked, staring down at the photo.
He continued, “You can’t even determine the height or weight from that angle. Can’t even tell if there’s hair under that collar.”
“Are you saying you think it could be a woman videotaping Rose?”
“Rose, huh? Not Doctor Hot-Pants, huh?” Gage chided, chuckling. “Just joking. Seriously, though, why couldn’t it be another woman filming her?”
“Because this isn’t your bedroom, Gage.”
Gage laughed.
Jagg took us back to the point. “You know the situation better than any of us. Any idea on the motive? Regardless of a man or a woman? Why would someone break into her house and want to record her?”
“There’s only one reason someone hides a camera in a woman’sbedroom.”
“Is there, Phoenix? Maybe this isn’t just some pervert. Maybe she has something he—or she—wants. Maybe someone is keeping tabs on her because Dr. Floris knows something about them that they don’t want to get out.”
I chewed on that for a moment, my mind drifting to the bomb she dropped about her childhood spent in foster care, and the mystery late night visit to the ranch house. One thing was for sure, Rose had secrets, and I needed to get to the bottom of them.
Jagg took a sip of my water. “Not bad. Anyway, you gotta step out of your possessive bubble and start thinking like a detective, Feen.”
“Who says I’m possessive?”
“The fist your hand curled into when Gage called her Doctor Hot-Pants.” He looked at Gage, who had already shifted focus to the drink he was ordering.
I squinted at the detective. “What are you leaving out, Jagg?”
His lack of response told me my instinct was correct.
“Tell me.”
“How well do you know this woman that’s got you sleeping outside her house, drinking water instead of whiskey, and pulling on these strings for?”
I opened my mouth, but paused.
“Exactly,” he jabbed a finger into the air. “Do you happen to know anything about her relationship withAndrew McGregor? The dead guy you and her so ironically stumbled onto? The guy who was stabbed to death in the temple with a damn pair of scissors? Do you know that she went on a date with him a few weeks ago?”
“What?”
“Yep. They went for coffee nine days ago. Then, the next week, he was brutally murdered.”
“Are you sure about the date?”
“Yep, and I’m not done, my friend. Andrew’s official cause of death was from the puncture wound to his head. You know who else got stabbed in the side of the dead? The body that Andrew was doing an autopsy on the day he got murdered. Crazy Carl. Andrew’s autopsy notes suggest a pair of blue-handled scissors were used.”
“Same on the chickens?”
“Yep. Hell of coincidence, huh? I’m not done, though. Crazy Carl was one of the guys Rose had called the cops on for sitting outside her office building all day, watching her through the windows.”
My eyes rounded as I looked at him.
“Yep. Both Andrew and Crazy Carl had a personal, romantic interest in Dr. Floris. Both Andrew and Crazy Carl were murdered and stabbed with scissors. Along with a bunch of chickens, of course.”
I stilled, my thoughts racing at breakneck speed.
