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I HAVE THE INFO YOU wanted, Boss.” It was the new kid rushing through the door. Romero was sitting behind his desk, feet propped on top, chewing a toothpick. He motioned for the new kid to take a seat.
“Whatcha got for me?”
“I was only able to follow her to the lot. I got her plate and ran it.” He sat down, dragged his little spiral notepad from his pocket and flipped it open. “Her name is Linsey Logan. And get this, she’s a Sexual Assault Forensics Nurse.”
Romero pushed back from the desk and took the toothpick out of his mouth. “That’s a big title for such a little lady. Anything else?”
“She lives in Virginia. Attended college there also.” He scratched his head. “The strangest thing, Boss. She didn’t exist before Virginia. No high school, no addresses, no family.” The kid’s eyes were full of curiosity. “What do you make of it, Boss?”
Romero put the toothpick between his lips, waggled it up and down. “Any brushes with the police? Complaints?”
“No, sir. Clean record. Nothing.”
“So, maybe her interest is professional,” Romero surmised.
“Maybe,” The kid said. “But when I was following her, she seemed real nervous. She was almost running to her car, looking back every few steps.”
“Did she make you for a cop?”
The kid scratched his head again. “I don’t think so. She looked past me, like she was looking for someone in particular.”
Romero removed the toothpick, used it as a pointer. “Good work, Kid.”
“Thank you, Boss. I’m happy to be part of the team.” The kid backed out of the office, gleaming a sunny smile when he bumped into Copeland. “Sorry. Sorry.”
Copeland hovered at the door, blocking passage. “Maybe you should try facing those two marbles in the sockets next to your sniffer in the direction your feet are traveling.”
“Sorry, Boss.”
“Hey, Kid.” Romero’s brows touched. Lips flipped down. “If I’m Boss and she’s Boss, how do you differentiate? Boss One? Boss Two?”
The kid’s lips parted. No sound. Lips moved. No words. He took a few backward steps toward the door, his eyes on Romero. Copeland was still at the door blocking his right of passage.
“Kid, shake it off.” Romero’s lips reversed direction. “We’re just joshing you.”
“Oh, okay.” A nervous laugh escaped the kid.
Copeland moved aside bridging her arm across the doorway for the kid to pass. He ducked under, disappearing in a puff of smoke. Copeland moved in, claimed her usual seat facing the desk. The plastic cushion sighed heavily as she sat. “What’s the kid doing here?”
Romero tapped the desk with his toothpick. “Good news, Cope. We’ve tracked the scarf lady.”
“And?” she asked.
More toothpick tapping. “She’s a Sexual Assault Forensics Nurse.” He enunciated each syllable.
“That’s a pretty big title for such a little woman.”
“Same thing I said. What brings you this way? Lunch?”
“No. I’ve been thinking about our tactics—watching the coach.”
“What about them?” Romero asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Suppose we discover some evidence that he did indeed raped that young girl, what are we going to do with it?” She held her hands out, palms up. “He can’t be convicted twice. That would be double Jeopardy.”
Romero dropped the toothpick in the trash container next to his desk; retrieved another from his desk drawer. “I know there are more vics. She ain't his first and she won’t be his last.” He cocked his head. “That little girl... she’s hiding something, and I aim to find out what it is.”
Copeland put an elbow on each knee and considered. “Say we find a smoking gun. He can’t be convicted again,” she insisted.
He leaned back, forefinger and thumb scraping across his goatee. “Ah, but there may be a loophole, my dear partner. Have you ever heard of the dual sovereignty doctrine?”
“No, can’t say I have.”
“1985, Heath vs. Alabama. Here’s what happened. A man hired two men to kill his wife. They kidnapped her in Alabama, but her body was found in Georgia on the side of the road. The sicko husband struck a deal and pleaded guilty to murder in a Georgia court to avoid the death penalty.”
“So, how does that help us with our case?”
“Unknot yourself, Cope.” He pointed the toothpick at her again. “It can help us. So, over in Alabama he’s being charged with murder and the kidnapping of his wife. And wouldn’t you know it, the sicko calls foul. Double jeopardy, he’s whining.”
“Well, isn’t it?” Copeland asked, agreeing with the husband.
“My dear partner,” the toothpick frolicked, “two different states.”
Copeland’s nose twitched. “Peppermint,” she declared. “That’s what I’ve been smelling. Where are you hiding them?”
“It’s the toothpick. It’s flavored,” Romero answered with a chuckle.
Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Only you, Boss One.”
“Hey, it keeps me from smoking.”
“Never mind. Finish the explanation.”
“El sicko got a surprise.”