Coop dodged two press vans in the police station lot and dropped Alexa off by the Vitz. “I’ll report to DI Horne. Give him the lowdown.”
“Okay,” Alexa said. She wondered whether Constable Cooper knew she was dating Bruce. Staying with him, too. He had texted her to say he’d be late.
Her clean clothes hung in her room at the Apple Motor Lodge. Bruce’s suitcase on the luggage rack made her smile. She kicked her Keds into a corner and shed her dirty clothes item by item on the way to the shower. She mulled over the case until the water turned cold. She bet on one of Quinn’s jilted women. But when she thought about the weapons and the gang, she felt uncertain. Concentrate on the science, she told herself. Science is always true. Her job was to interpret it correctly.
As she dried her hair, a hint of auburn made her think of her mother. She wiped the foggy mirror and mouthed, “Ellen.”
Every once in a while she said her mother’s name out loud, to pay homage. She fetched one of the few memories she had: Mom taking her back-to-school shoe shopping when she was entering first grade. Just the two of them, no Dad or Charlie.
Blue Keds. Alexa had picked out blue Keds, and her mother said they were perfect.
Before her first grade year was complete, Mom died of a brain tumor. A glioblastoma. Blasted their little family apart. Harlan Quinn’s fierce little daughter’s world had been blasted apart, too.
As she pulled her sleep shirt on, she pondered the trajectory of her life. Had a well-adjusted Alexa died along with Mom? She’d researched the impact of losing a parent at a young age. Outcomes included depression, anxiety, and poor appetite.
None applied.
The one she hadn’t escaped was trouble forming relationships. She was almost thirty-eight and had no husband. No kid. No pet. No friends to speak of. She severed ties without looking back.
She was terrified she’d do the same to Bruce. Mess things up. Hurt him. She uncapped his aftershave and let the woodsy scent calm her down. She could change. She left the bathroom and flopped onto the bed, running her hand across Bruce’s pillow, and then reaching for her book. She liked romances because they were predictable. They ended happily. They made her think of Bruce. Her phone woke her an hour later. She checked the screen: Unknown Caller. A knock at the door made her drop it.
“Alexa? It’s me.”
She left the phone between the bed and nightstand and opened the door. Bruce held up a bag in one hand and two beers in the other. Still they managed to kiss.
The salty scent of fried fish made her taste buds dance as if they had been deprived. She and Bruce ate at the little table, knee to knee. Between bites of blue cod and sips of Speight’s, Bruce said, “I’ve taken another room. Down the street at the Fairmont.”
Her heart sank. “Why?”
“I’m taking over the case. Mic won’t be back.” He wiped his mouth, leaned across the table, and kissed her salty lips. “I’m your boss now.”
Not technically, she thought, but she knew what he meant. It wouldn’t be proper to shack up with the active DI. Still, she was sad. “Why won’t DI Steele be coming back?”
His eyes, sapphire in the dim light, were serious. “It’s confidential.”
She was about to argue, but tacked in a different direction. “Why didn’t you mention Constable Cooper was joining the case?”
“Did I not? Most likely because you distract me.” His knee nudged her into forgiveness. “She’s an asset. Her whānau extends into this area.”
“We had an encounter with some gang members and she stood up to them. She was so brave.” Alexa told him what happened. “After the guy with the tatted fangs left our table, the others barked. Coop, I mean Constable Cooper, made sure a table of teenagers left safely.”
Bruce nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Did she fill you in on what we learned about Katrina Flores?”
He wiped his fingers with a napkin and cleaned up the table. “She did. I look forward to interviewing Ms. Flores in the morning. I find it interesting that she admitted an affair but wouldn’t consent to be fingerprinted.”
“First Quinn cheated on his wife. Then he cheated on his girlfriend. What a sleaze.”
Bruce’s eyes darkened. “In our last case together, you cautioned the team against demeaning the victim.”
A doctor had been killed, and Alexa hadn’t like the way the team had made comments about her sex life. “She wasn’t married,” Alexa pointed out. “Why get married if you’re going to cheat?” When he didn’t respond, Alexa said, “Amit Gupta is staying at The Retreat. I saw him in the bar tonight.”
“I’ve talked with Chief Petrie in San Jose. He’s digging into both Quinn and Gupta’s histories. We know they cofounded Q&G Biologics. They worked together three years, mostly conducting drug trials. Quinn left to start another company, BioMatic. He took along several employees.”
“Gupta probably didn’t like that. Maybe he came here to exact revenge.”
Bruce laughed, surprising her. “Sometimes I forget you’re a CSI and not a police officer. Your instincts are helpful. I think I’ll swear you in.”
Alexa preened. “I’ve been writing a paper on how crime scene investigators should be incorporated into the criminal justice…”
Bruce leaned over to kiss her quiet. “You know what’s happening between us, don’t you?”
Alexa stilled.
He saw her face and backed off. “Early start tomorrow. Lock the door behind me.”
She did, and then fished for her phone and checked her messages. Katrina Flores had left a voicemail: “I’ve remembered something important. Call me.”
There was no answer when Alexa called back.