Like I care, I said silently.
There was the tiniest twinge that answered back and called me a liar.
I sat on the edge of the bed, sinking into the mattress as my mind drifted elsewhere. What was Albina doing now? She was probably at the studio, sewing in elastic and ribbon to a new pair of pointe shoes. Her choreography was more intense, so she burned through hers even faster than I did, which were only lasting a few performances these days.
The heaviness of all that had happened pressed down and threatened to crush me as I curled up on the bed. My career had just begun, and now? Would it be over? We theater people were superstitious, and I’d forever be known as the girl who was onstage during the shooting.
Shit. Would I be tethered to this tragedy for the rest of my life?
5
JASON
I wasboth relieved and frustrated when Laurel disappeared into her room. Whenever we were together, it was awkward and tense, leaving me on edge, and yet... I didn’t want her out of my sight. It had nothing to do with the bizarre charge I felt whenever she was near, I reassured myself.
Last time she’d been alone in a bathroom, she’d broken down. What if it happened again? I wasn’t capable of giving her a shoulder to cry on.
With her tucked away in her room, I sat on the couch and finished reviewing the statements she’d given to the FBI after each shooting. The first account was brief and vague. The second statement detailed her encounter with the suspect, starting from the hotel elevator and ending when she’d run to the safety of two CPD officers.
As I read, unease twisted my stomach.
Her account made this man seem cold and thorough. Like he was someone who wouldn’t like how she’d gotten away. She’d heard his confession and seen his face, which made her a loose end. So, why hadn’t the suspect killed her in her hotel room?
The only thing that was clear to me was that Laurel Hayward was lucky to be alive.
My phone vibrated, the screen flashing Bill’s name.
“Why am I on this assignment?” I asked, struggling not to sound ungrateful. I was finally back in the field, so I shouldn’tcomplain, but I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut. “Is this because of Nelson?”
“Actually, yeah,” my boss replied. “But not why you think.”
“You notice she’s a woman? And I’m not?”
“Oh, really? No, I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly. “Get over it, Dunn. You’re someone I want to handle it.”
That gave me pause. “Why’s that?”
“They’re still working with the laptop, but there’s evidence that ties him to the Driskell case.”
Shit.
Driskell was a federal judge who’d been murdered in November. He’d been stopped at a red light when a car rolled up beside him and unloaded the contents of a 9mm into the judge’s face. There’d been no movement on the case for months. No witnesses, no incriminating evidence, and absolutely no leads.
“We got squat from the hotel’s cameras.” I could hear every ounce of frustration in Bill’s voice. “So, I need Ms. Hayward to go through the mug shot collection I’m sending over now, as soon as possible.”
I glanced down the hall to the door she’d closed less than an hour ago. “She’s asleep.”
“Well, you’re a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll find a way to remedy that. The sooner we have an ID, the better.”
Dammit. I struggled to find a reason to keep him on the phone, to delay the inevitable, but the call ended less than a minute later. I eyed the closed door like a bomb might be hidden behind it.
I knocked quietly, but there was no response from the other side. She was probably out cold, and the thought pulled a sigh from my lungs. After what she’d been through, she deserved some rest, didn’t she? I didn’t like that I’d have to deny her that.
There was no response to my second, louder knock, which forced my hand again.
Laurel was lying on top of the covers with her back to me, and the basic male part of me couldn’t help but look at her. She wore jeans and a sweater that clung to her curves and long legs. Her breathing was slow and even, and she looked so goddamn vulnerable, an urge to curl up beside her tumbled through me like a bullet.
I didn’t like standing there, looking at her with inappropriate and unprofessional thoughts in my head, and blinked back my self-directed disgust. What the fuck was wrong with me?
