“Get it, boss.” Moira fist-bumps Spencer.
Hunter gives them an unimpressed look. “I highly doubt that’s for me,” he says dryly. “Considering I did the order over thephone and only picked it up once it was ready, they hardly have a reason to be wanting to give me their number.”
“It’s the hot sex-phone voice,” Six pipes up, mouth already full of a bite. “Melts your panties right off.”
Hunter blinks at him, like he’s not sure whether to take Six seriously or not. It’s always better to err on the side of caution and not. He turns away from the menace and says, “Have you found anything in this pile to make any charges stick?”
“Charges for what, exactly?” Spencer asks. He reaches for a chocolate chip cookie, and Moira almost gets there first. The ensuing battle ends with them each having a half. “No one knows she was murdered, and we’re supposed to keep it quiet. We can get him for illegal spy cameras, possible breaking and entering if we can work out how he kept them running, some major stalking and serial killer vibes without the killing part—though any defence lawyer worth his fee would rip right through that. There’s nothing here to link him to the first murder, there’s not even technically anything linking him to the second. Just circumstantial.” He rocks back onto the back two legs of the chair, lifting his feet and crossing his ankles on the table. “Besides, Ken doesn’t think it’s him.”
All heads turn to look at me.
“You don’t?” Six asks.
Moira fiddles with the straw of her drink, her long nails tapping. “Why not?”
“He has the tendencies, sure. But if you look at all of this”—I wave my hand at all the evidence in front of us—“he covets her. Thinks he loves her. Maybe he does, in his own sick way. The bruising on her body suggests a brutality I don’t think he’d be capable of with her. There was no consideration for keeping her ‘pretty’ or undamaged. This man worships her, he doesn’t want to kill her. I think if this were a kidnapping case, he’d bemy number-one suspect. He wants to keep her, to have her as a trophy.”
“But not a dead one?” Hunter asks. “Plenty of serial killers were in love with their victims. Sometimes that’s where it starts and why they choose them in the first place.”
“Sure. But it’s not the case here.” I’m sure of it. Someone else did this. “The cameras are what interest me the most. Without one in the bathroom, there’ll be no footage of the murder itself. But there could be some of the killer walking into the house. It’s possible that Colin Trine witnessed it himself.” Considering how surprised he was to learn of the murder, I won’t count on it, but stranger things have happened.
“It’s weird,” Spencer says. “That he didn’t put one in the bathroom.Orher bedroom.”
“Giving her some privacy?” Jericho suggests. He takes the last cookie before anyone else can and ignores the look Moira gives him.
Six laughs derisively. “Oh, sure, let’s put hidden cameras in her apartment to spy on her while she’s unaware, but better make sure we don’t catch her in the bathroom?”
“Maybe there’s a line he won’t cross.” Some teriyaki sauce drops on my thumb, and Spencer snags it before I can, sucking it off. Our eyes meet, heat swirling deep in my gut. “Only willing to go so far in violating her privacy,” I say shakily, trying to remember what we’re talking about.
“Maybe he wants her to come to him willingly,” Hunter adds thoughtfully. “Wants her to surrender to him.”
If anyone knows anything about willing surrender, it’s Hunter. “Either way, he’s not our man,” I say confidently. I’m positive he’s not who we’re looking for. My gut says we’re missing something important. Somethingobvious.
“So we’re back to square one.” Spencer drops his chair back down, boots hitting the floor with a dullthud.
Not quite. We have the cameras. “Depends on what Six can find.”
“Well, I went by your victim’s place and snagged all the SD cards and left the cameras intact, in case Greer wants to take this further and find a way to get him charged for being a creep.”
“Is that the official terminology?” Spencer asks, laughing. He twists in his chair, lifting a leg to spread over my thighs. I instantly rest a hand on his calf, gently massaging. He can invade my space whenever he wants.
“Separate issue.” I don’t care what Greer does with him even if that involves leaving him in a dumpster somewhere. Though he’ll pick somewhere more discreet. Greer would never be so common as to leave a body with the trash. “Do you think you can get something off them?”
Six shrugs. “Maybe? You said it records over previous footage every forty-eight hours. That means it’s onlyjustbeen erased. It’s thirty-seventy, but I wouldn’t bank on it.”
If only we’d found it earlier. This might have been over already.
Greer arrives then, slamming the front door behind himself. He’s wearing a suit, the charcoal material sitting perfectly on his lean frame. Impeccable until Six gets his hands on him. With his ever-present scowl, he doesn’t say a word as he comes to the table and sits heavily beside Six.
“This one’s yours,” Six says, handing him one that has “no cheese” written on it. Most lactose-intolerant people like to take a walk on the wild side most of the time, and I doubt Greer cares all that much, but Six is a stickler for it. He takes care of Greer, always.
“He didn’t see anything,” Greer says after he’s made his way through half of it. “He’s adamant he hasn’t watched the recording for about a week.”
Should have seen that coming. “Convenient.”
Greer grunts, more focused on his food.
“You think he’s telling the truth?” Six asks. He leans back in his chair and drapes an arm behind Greer’s, resting a hand on his shoulder.
