A black opaque window filled one wall. She knew after Ian left the room, the officer would turn out the lights on her side of the window, and another officer would turn on lights in the room where the suspects would appear. Though she knew that Snipes might not be in this lineup, in her gut she knew she would likely come face-to-face with the man who’d shot Junior.
“Ms. Rice.” Peoples held out his hand. “Good to see you again.”
She shook his hand that was warm and plump, and for some reason, she thought it fit the man who did things in excess in court, often receiving the judge’s censure.
Ian read her the rules of the lineup, and she signed the statement, as did Ian, the officer, and Peoples.
“I’ll see you after the lineup is complete.” Ian stepped to the door and closed it behind him.
The officer looked at her. “This will be a visual and voice lineup. Each person will enter one at a time and be wearing a black ski mask. Each one will also say, ‘You messed with the wrong person.’ Each person will also be holding a number.” His gaze slid to Peoples, and he asked them both, “Any questions?”
He got shakes of heads in response, and he flicked off the light.
The room on the other side lit up on the far side of the glass, and she heard another officer say, “Number one, step into the room. Turn and face the glass and say, ‘You messed with the wrong person.”
He did so, and she watched for the swagger as he walked in. Listened for the tone of voice. Looked for a birthmark. Not him. She was sure. The officer had the next two guys do the same, and neither of them were right either. Number four was called into the room, and he strutted over to the mirror. Yes! That was the swagger she’d seen. A cocky self-importance in his walk. He uttered the words.
She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth as she stepped back. She didn’t mean to react, but with his voice and walk, she was instantly transported back to that ballroom. The gunshots going off. Junior collapsing. Death. Sudden death beside her. The man held up his number, and she caught a glimpse of a heart-shaped birthmark on his hand.
“All right, number four, you’re all set,” the officer in the suspect room said. The man walked out.
Number four. Snipes. She knew it was him. Malone wanted to look at the officer and share her assessment, but she shouldn’t. Not with Peoples watching her every move. He would interpret her look all wrong. He’d think the officer somehow led her to know that number four was Snipes. She wouldn’t botch the line-up.
Numbers five and six went through the same drill. She watched, but they weren’t the shooter.
After all the men had filed through the room, Malone turned to the officer. “It’s number four.”
His expression was blank. He had no idea which guy was the actual suspect. “Without using a numerical scale, how certain are you?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Do you need to see any of the men again?” he asked.
“I’m absolutely positive it’s number four,” she said firmly.
The officer flicked on the light switch, and the window went black.
Peoples’s only reaction was a twitch of his jaw. “I’d like to speak with my client now.”
“I’ll see you out,” the officer said to Peoples, who muttered something under his breath.
Peoples flashed Malone an irritated glare. Looks like she’d been right.
When Peoples was gone, Ian stepped into the room. “Ready to go?”
“I know you can’t tell me if I was right, but I know I was.” She smiled at him.
He held her gaze, transmitting the same deep emotions that had filled his eyes the night before when he’d kissed her. She wanted to rush over to him and repeat the kiss—never let it end. But this wasn’t the time.
“If that’s all, the guys are waiting to take me home,” she said.
“I got the files from the gangland shooting and Junior’s phone records from Londyn. I thought we could go through them together.”
“Sure, but not here, okay? I feel like all your fellow detectives are staring at me.”
“I would be if I were them.” He grinned.
“It’s not that.” She chuckled, the laugh out of place, all things considered. “Honestly, I think they’re mentally measuring me for prison garb.”
