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“No, Arty, his nose needs to be broader, almost African-American.” I sighed and leaned back in the chair.
Arthur Bellamy, the most proficient sketch artist available, tore the sketch from his pad and tossed it on the desk with the half-dozen others I’d already shot down. Somewhere between the pictures in my head, the words I spoke, and what Arty heard, we had a disconnect.
“I need Aaron West. No offense to you, Arty.”
He shrugged. “It happens. Aaron’s a good egg. I’m going to keep the sketches, though.” He motioned to the pile. “I like to archive my work.” He gathered them up and slid them into his portfolio.
I left his office and approached the only remaining detectives in the near-empty precinct, Daniel among them. “I need Aaron.”
He gave me a dirty look, but I was currently playing the ‘Daniel isn’t the boss of me’ game, so he could bite me.
“He’s at a crime scene.” Mike handed me a cup of coffee.
I declined. My stomach still hurt from downing that tub of caffeine in the car. “Then let’s go.”
Daniel and Mike shared a look. “That’s a no-go,” Daniel replied.
“Why?”
Daniel sighed. “Didn’t Ethan tell you to wait?”
I flinched. “Did everyone hear him yell at me?”
Both guys nodded. “Pretty much,” Daniel said. “West has already agreed to meet us here when he’s done.”
Okay, more weirdness. “What’s going on? Why can’t we just go? It’s not like you’re going to be treading on his jurisdiction. I just need to talk to him, so we can catch this bastard.”
Mike ran a hand through his dark hair. “Zoë, it’s just better if we wait on West.”
“Are you frickin’ kidding me? It’s me, isn’t it?”
Ethan opened his office door.
“Why can’t I go to a crime scene?” I asked him.
The captain looked at my partners. “You didn’t tell her?”
Daniel shook his head. “Figured we’d let you do it. She’ll listen to you.”
I felt like a small child in a room of adults. “What in the name of everything sacred aren’t you telling me? Did someone die? Is there another body? Do you not want me to contaminate a scene? I don’t even have to leave the car. I just need to talk to Aaron, and since we have a case with dead bodies already piling up, I figured you’d want to help before our suspect skips town.”
Brooks gave a heavy sigh. “Zoë, you’re off the case. You’re too invested.”
“What the hell, Ethan?” The lightbulb popped on. “That’s why you didn’t want to talk about the case, why you sent me to Arty first—because you knew if you told me, I wouldn’t give you shit. What an awful thing to do, Ethan. Just fucking awful.”
He ignored my rant. “So you can either sit here and wait for West, or you can act like a child and throw a tantrum. Your choice.”
I grabbed my purse. “I don’t have to put up with this bullshit.”
“Zoë—” Daniel started.
I raised a hand and walked out the door. Down the stairs I went, my ire rising with my descent. How dare they! After everything I’ve done for them the past six years, they think they can kick me off my case? Who in the hell do they think they are?
Pushing the bottommost door open, I stalked across the parking lot, got into my car, and slammed the door. I punched the steering wheel and the horn blared, a short burst of sound echoing my anger. Well, fuck ‘em. If they weren’t going to tell me where Aaron was, I would find out on my own.
I pulled out my cell and dialed the other precinct.
“Baltimore County, Precinct Eight, Anna Marie Watkins speaking, how may I direct your call?” The receptionist rattled off the spiel in monotone.
I cleared my throat and found my inner perky girl. “Hi, Anna Marie, this is Zoë. I was wondering if you could help me with something. I was supposed to meet Detective West at his crime scene, but I can’t seem to find the directions he gave me. That paper got lost in the abyss of my purse. You know how that goes.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, I know all about that. It’s like there’s a bottomless pit installed in those things. Hold on a second. Let me get the directions for you.” She put me on hold, and I listened to the tinny sounds of classical music for a few minutes before she picked up again. “Ms. Delante, you ready?”
“Yep, got my pad right here.” She gave me directions, and I recognized the address. “Thanks, Anna Marie. I’d better get going. Don’t want to keep the good detective waiting!”
“Have a good day, Ms. Delante.”
“You too.” I hung up and started the car. After glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure no one had decided to follow me out, I put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot, heading to Timonium.
***
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Detective Dustin Gregory said when I approached the yellow tape.
“So I hear.” I glanced around him and spotted Aaron leaning against the banister, hand to forehead. “All I want to do is talk to Aaron. You can keep your little crime scene, Dustin, and all the glory that entails.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you, Zoë. Call it instinct, but you aren’t here for some police sketch.”
I gave him my best cop face. “I swear that’s all I want.”
Dustin turned toward his partner, and Aaron gave him a resigned nod. “Don’t touch him. Just talk. Promise me.”
I stared at Dustin. “I won’t touch him.” He lifted the tape, and I ducked under it. What could be so bad in that apartment that I’m not allowed to touch Aaron? What don’t they want me to see?
“Zoë.” Aaron forced a small smile. “We have to stop meeting like this.” He extended a hand, and I almost grabbed it, except his partner snagged my arm and shook his head.
“Right.” Aaron shook his head. “No show for you.” He cleared his throat. “What can I do for you today, now that you’ve come so far north to a crime scene you’re not allowed to attend?”
So the slight was on purpose. I wanted to ask, just outright ask, but the look on Dustin’s face warned me against it. Besides, Aaron looked so tired, so worn out, and in a way that I knew went beyond a normal lack of sleep.
“You remember my dead baby?”
He nodded.
“Well, I’ve got another one, and I know what the bastard who killed them looks like now—met him in person. I need you to sketch a composite.”
“Get Arthur to do it.”
I shook my head. “Tried that already.”
“He couldn’t do it?”
“Nope, but you can.”
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Come on, then. I keep a sketch pad in the car.”
We walked away from the crime scene to an unmarked squad car. Aaron opened the passenger side door and pulled out a thick, well-worn sketchpad. He felt around in his trench coat pockets until he found a pencil.
“So I guess this is the tricky part,” he mused, pencil between his teeth as he flipped to a clean sheet. “You aren’t supposed to touch me, so you won’t get involved in our case, but you have to touch me, so I can help you solve yours.”
“How are your shields?” I asked. I needed him to be weak, to get into his head without him noticing.
He didn’t even bother looking up from the paper. “Thanks to you, fine, but I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”
I frowned. “Are you a mind reader now?”
He raised his eyes, amused. “What do you want from me, Zoë? It’s not like you to be so persistent.”
I shrugged. “What can I say? My curiosity is killing me. Everyone’s told me to keep my nose out of this case without giving me a concrete reason. If I’m not supposed to know, why even bring it to my attention?”
“What if I told you I don’t know how you’d react?” he asked. “What if I said I don’t want you to see what I’ve seen in that apartment, regardless of what our superiors have ordered? Would that be good enough, one clairvoyant to another?”
