Chapter Two

 

There wasn’t anything cute or fuzzy about the Pink Kitty. It sat on the edge of a neighborhood noted for drug busts and drive by shootings. Not much farther away stood the Stardust Club, the latest hot spot. Give it a few months and it would probably go broke and some other club would take its place.

He’d been of two minds about bringing Gemma along, but she’d found the witness when his own men hadn’t. She’d also gotten the woman to talk.

He’d have to waste time shaking a lot of trees to find the right person. He might as well take advantage of the legwork Gemma had already done.

Just in front of the entrance, Gemma caught the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him to a halt.

“Let me take the lead.” She brushed past him and pulled open the door, not giving him a chance to respond.

He wasn’t sure what to make of her. It’d been a long time since a woman, reporter or not, had captivated him. And as irritated as Gemma made him, he was honest enough to admit that she fascinated him at the same time.

But she was a reporter, for God’s sake.

It had to be lack of sleep and a massive caseload, because even thinking about getting involved with a reporter was crazy.

But she sure knew how to fill out a pantsuit, he acknowledged as he followed her into the club, his gaze tracing the curve of her heart-shaped bottom. He didn’t have time for more of a perusal since they were met by a hulking bouncer who sat on a stool just inside the doorway.

“You back again?” he looked pointedly at Gemma. Then he caught sight of Jack and jerked his thumb at him. “Why you hooking up with this loser? He’s bad news, girlie.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest, except the words couldn’t get past his throat, but he closed it when he felt a heel dig into his foot.

“Never mind him, Earl. Is Candy working tonight?”

“You’ll have to wait. She’s on stage.”

“Thanks, Earl.” Gemma strode onwards like she was used to waltzing into stripper clubs on a nightly basis.

Jack attempted to follow her, but a big beefy hand on his chest stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going? Twenty bucks cover.”

“Here’s my cover.” He took out his badge and flipped it open. “Police business.”

“What the hell? You’re a cop?” Earl crossed his big brawny arms over his chest and regarded Jack with disgust. “Girlie better watch out. You’re bad news.”

Jack didn’t bother responding. Girlie was certainly going to get an earful about hanging out with this crowd.

He walked through an archway into a large smoky room with small round tables scattered in a U-pattern around a stage that jutted out from the wall directly into the audience.

That wasn’t the only thing jutting. He eyed a thirty-something bleached blonde wearing a G-string and a boa jiggle her way across the stage. Whistles and clapping from a bunch of drunken men accompanied her performance.

He spied Gemma at the bar chatting it up with a guy in a suit and headed in her direction. She smiled and the power of it stole his breath. It didn’t appear to have the same effect on the guy talking to her, though. He lurched off the bar stool, a horrified look on his face and scuttled away.

“I see you’re making friends. What’d you say?”

Gemma shrugged as she accepted a soda from the bartender. “He asked if I was going to be on stage soon. I told him I was a reporter working on a story.” She took a sip and her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think it was when I asked him if I could interview him on middle-aged men suffering from low self-esteem and seeking validation through sex shows that he remembered another appointment.”

Jack chuckled and sat on the vacated stool.

The bartender leaned on the bar, a towel thrown over his shoulder. He wore an open neck black button down shirt with a gold chain and a gold stud in his ear. “Can I get you your usual?” He was talking to Jack, but his eyes were on Gemma, which ticked Jack off for some reason.

“I don’t have a usual. I’ll take a plain soda water.”

The bartender’s gaze flicked towards him before lowering, and then he walked away to fill the order.

Once Jack had his drink in hand, he took a few healthy swallows as he observed the various audience members. They only had eyes for the stage, judging from the lewd shouts and whistles. “Candy seems to be heading for the grand finale.” About time. Maybe he was an oddity, but he much preferred a private viewing provided by the woman in his life rather than this group affair.

As soon as Candy left the stage, he was off the stool and moving towards the dressing rooms. He heard a set of heels chasing after him.

When he reached a door with a faded star and the word RE SING ROOM, he knocked and entered.

Three women in various stages of undress greeted him. He weaved his way around them and a rack filled with lingerie to get to Candy, who sat in a see-through robe at the last dressing table. She was peering into the mirror and dabbing at her cheeks with a tissue.

He pushed open his jacket to make his badge more visible then Gemma barreled right past him.

“Candy, we need to talk.”

She flicked a quick look at Gemma in the mirror, but when she caught sight of him, her gaze slid away. “Look, honey, you caught me at a bad time. I gotta get home. Just forget about what we talked about the other day.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Jack interjected, determined to get answers from the first witness to be found. “Detective Jack Donahue, Carville PD. I have a few questions for you.”

Candy’s mouth twisted and her fingers tightened around the tissue in her hand. “Ah, hell, sugar, why’d you have to sic the cops on me?”

“I’m sorry, Candy. Another woman is dead. She was just like you, trying to make a living, doing the best she could to survive.” Gemma’s voice rang with a tone that he didn’t generally attribute to reporters; honesty.

He could almost believe her. Almost. Because, in the end, it always came down to the story. Even so, it had an effect on Candy, judging from the way she nibbled on her bottom lip and the crease that developed between her eyebrows.

“Like I told you, I didn’t see much.”

“Tell me what you saw, please. Sometimes a snippet of information is all we need to break a case wide open.” Reluctant witnesses were always tricky to handle. They had reasons for not wanting to get involved. It was a case of finding what would push them in the right direction. The Candys of the world weren’t going to be bought by public duty. They were all about survival. “This guy is going to kill again. He’s going to watch and wait, and when he gets another woman in a vulnerable position, he’ll strike. We don’t know if he’s choosing single women who work in bars, or women in this particular neighborhood, or if he has a preference for brunettes or blondes.” At that Candy reached up to touch her blonde-from-the-bottle hair. “He needs to be stopped.”

Candy’s fingers moved agitatedly over the dressing table, moving makeup and perfume bottles around. She was weighing his words. When her shoulders sagged suddenly, he knew she’d decided to talk.

“All right, I’ll tell you what I saw, but you’ve got to keep my name out of it! I don’t want this creep after me.” Her face pleaded to both of them.

“I’m a cop. The press won’t hear it from me, but…” he inclined his head towards Gemma.

“I mentioned a witness, but no names. No identifying information and I did not mention the Pink Kitty.” She rocked on her feet and two bright red spots appeared in her cheeks. “It’ll be in the morning papers.”

He would’ve laid into her, but Candy began talking, her hands idly moving over the perfume bottles.

“I didn’t see much. Really. I went out back to have a cigarette and clear my head. It was a busy night and I wanted some space, you know? I heard a door open and then voices, and giggling. Figured someone was getting it on behind the club. Not my deal.” She dragged over a rumpled pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. She lit it and took a deep drag.

Clearly Candy viewed the state’s no smoking ban in restaurants and bars as optional. But that wasn’t his job.

“Can you describe the woman or man for the detective?” Gemma asked.

The woman didn’t know when to stop. She might’ve found him a witness, but this was his investigation and he wasn’t about to let it be screwed up by a reporter of all people. Jack held up one finger. “Could you give us a moment, Ms…?”

“Randolph,” Candy supplied. “But everybody just calls me Candy.”

“Thank you.” Jack cupped Gemma’s elbow and, ignoring the surprised look on her face, gently tugged her a few steps away, which was the most space he could get in the small dressing room. Keeping his voice down, he made his point. “I’m the detective. Let me do my job.”

She fisted her hands on her hips and stuck her chin out mulishly. “Fine, as long as you let me do mine.”

“I better not see one word of what she says in that rag of yours.”

“Why you…”

Jack pivoted while she was in mid-sentence to return to Candy, who was stubbing out one cigarette and already lighting another. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out several pictures.

“Candy, do you recognize any of these women?” He laid the photos on the dressing table in front of her.

She tapped one photo. “This woman was on TV. The first victim. I’ve never seen her.” She studied the other pictures, her index finger finally resting on another photo. “This one looks like the woman I saw. She’s the second victim, isn’t she? Who are the others? Has this freak killed all these women, too?” Her face paled beneath the make- up.

Gemma had come up beside him, her lips pressed together tightly. At least she was quiet.

Except he spoke too soon.

“Yes, that’s the second victim. There are only two victims that we know of so far. Isn’t that right, detective?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Jack scooped up the photos and returned them to his pocket. “What can you tell me about the woman in the second picture?”

“She must’ve come out the back door of the club next door. She was laughing and looking up at the guy she was hanging on to. I only got a look at her face because she reached back to brush something off her shoulder. The man had his back to me. About your height and build. Sharp dresser.” She cocked her head and stared at the stream of smoke, then waved her cigarette as if to make a point. “Not like you, though,” she said, jabbing her cigarette in his direction. “You probably clean up real good, but I bet you wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of chinos and a polo shirt.”

“Was that what the guy was wearing?” Jack asked.

“Maybe. Can’t say for sure. It was dark. He did have on a leather jacket. Not as beat up as yours, though.” She frowned in concentration. “There’s something else, but I can’t remember. Anyway, they got into a dark blue or black Ford Mustang and left. That’s it.”

“Are you sure about the car?”

Candy ground her cigarette into an already overflowing ashtray. “I’m sure. My daddy owned a garage. Guess you could say it’s in the blood.” She sighed and glanced in the mirror, only to slide her eyes away. “Couldn’t wait to shake the dust off my feet and make something of myself.”

Jack took her over each point again, asking questions to clarify details. He arranged a time for her to come down to the station to give a statement and then told her they would get out of her way.

Outside the dressing room, Jack turned right, making his way towards the Emergency door at the back. According to Candy, she’d been in the alley when she’d caught sight of the victim with a man. He needed to get a look at the spot and confirm her version of events. One of the reasons he had the highest closure rate in the department was because he paid attention to the details.

On the right side of the short hallway, he passed a closed door marked with the word ‘Office’. On the left side, he glimpsed an open room with boxes stacked high. Probably where they kept their liquor. Behind him he heard Gemma’s hurried steps on the wood floor.

“What exactly are you looking for?” she asked.

“Just getting a feel for the place.” He opened the back door, noting there was no light to illuminate the alley. Stepping out the door, he noted empty crates stacked up on either side of the entry. The fire code inspector would love this. Jack had to actually move several feet into the alley to see the back door of the Stardust Club across the way.

“Candy told me she was standing right over here.”

Jack turned to see Gemma had followed him outside. She pointed to a spot tucked between the stacks. “It was windy and there was a light rain, so she wanted to stay under this bit of overhang if she could.”

“She wouldn’t have been able to see anything until they got to the car. The back door is blocked from that angle.” Jack measured the distance with his eye. The dark combined with the light rain would have obscured Candy’s sight, except for the fact that the security light outside the club seemed to be working. If the light had been on, a fact he’d confirm, even with the light drizzle, Candy could have seen what she claimed.

“We’re done. I’m going to set things in motion and take you home.”

He’d been prepared for Gemma to protest when the door opened and the bartender stepped out.

“Lenny,” Gemma exclaimed, “you startled me.”

“Saw you go out the back door. Thought I’d check on you. Can’t be too careful these days.” He pulled a cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and lit up. “Girl over at that club bought it recently.”

“What do you know about that girl?” Jack interjected himself into the conversation.

Lenny eyed him with blatant dislike. Funny, when they’d only just met. “Don’t know anything.” He took another pull from his cigarette. “I get off work in half an hour. I can give you a ride home if you need one.” He was clearly talking to Gemma, and Jack was certain he wasn’t included in the invitation.

“Thanks, Lenny. I appreciate the offer, but he brought me and I really should go back with him.” She smiled, probably to soften the sting of her rejection. The woman needed a keeper. If he’d ever seen a wannabe stalker, this guy would qualify. As it was, he was going on Jack’s list of suspects. This alley obviously got way more traffic than he and the other detectives had realized.

Lenny tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and rubbed it out with his shoe. “You change your mind, you know where to find me.” He pulled the back door open and disappeared inside.

“Real likeable fellow.” Jack made his sarcasm clear. “So how’d you two become such buddies.”

“We’re not buddies, but I spent a while in the Pink Kitty, talking to as many people as I could, hoping somebody might’ve noticed something when they arrived or left. A lot of the customers wouldn’t talk to me when they realized I was a reporter. I almost got kicked out, but Lenny promised to keep an eye on me and I promised to be discreet.”

She didn’t know when to quit. He could admire that quality even as it ticked him off. He didn’t want a reporter on his case. “Let’s go.”

“Does this mean you’ll give me an exclusive interview on the investigation?”

“No, it doesn’t. It means I’m going to follow through with my original intention and get you out of my hair. We are not partners on this investigation. We’re not colleagues. We are…we are….”

She stared up at him with those green eyes and those copper curls framing her face and his train of thought completely derailed.

“What? Enemies?” She stepped in, one hand reaching out to latch on to his jacket. “I don’t think so.” Her other hand came up to smooth the leather over his heart. “Not when we both want to catch the guy who did this. So, what exactly are we, Jack?”

“Screwed,” he managed to get out as he snaked an arm around her waist and yanked her to him. His mouth came down on hers hard. He didn’t know why it as so important that he taste her, only that it was. She’d been slipping her way under his skin all night, driving him crazy with irritation or driving him crazy with lust. And the line between the two was pretty thin.

He should’ve walked away and never looked back when he’d exited O’Malley’s Bar. Instead, his conscience had nagged him into waiting to make sure she got into her car okay. Face it, if he hadn’t, she would’ve been stuck in that parking lot by herself, a target for any lowlife on the prowl, which only made him angrier.

As these thoughts ran through his head, he poured them into his kiss. Punishing her. Punishing himself for being attracted when he didn’t want to be.

The woman was all wrong for him.

He peeled his lips away, though he still held her snug against him. His chest felt like a belt three sizes too tight had been strapped around it and it hurt to breathe. Why did she have this effect on him? A reporter!

“What was that for?” she asked.

He forced his hands down and put a little distance between them. “When I have an answer, you’ll be the first to know.” He yanked open the back door to the strip joint and waited for her to enter. “I’ll tell you one thing, though, it won’t happen again.

She sailed past him and he must have heard wrong because he’d swear as she walked inside she muttered, “What a shame.”

***

It was after two in the morning, by the time Jack pulled up in front of her house. He’d shut down all attempts at conversation, so the ride had been rather lopsided in the talking department, with her doing all of it.

“You going to check out the lead Candy gave you on the Mustang?” She didn’t expect an answer, but she wouldn’t be a reporter if she didn’t keep trying to pry answers out of the guy.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” Exasperation peppered each syllable. “Good-bye Ms. Fitzgibbons.”

“This isn’t over. We are going to talk,” she insisted as she popped the door open.

“We have nothing to talk about.” He looked utterly bored and he began tapping the steering wheel with both thumbs as if he were in a hurry. She wanted to kick him.

“Sure we do,” she said in her most saccharine tone. “We have to talk about that kiss.”

She slammed the door on the look of horror on his face and marched up the drive to her front door. As soon as she slipped inside, she heard his car drive away.

Irritating man.

She’d barely taken a few steps when a voice sounded from the upper landing. “Aunt Gemma.”

“Dana, what are you doing up? It’s late and you should be in bed.” Gemma flipped on the light switch, which bathed the stairs in a soft glow. Her five-year-old niece stood at the top, behind the security gate.

“I want something to drink. I’m thirsty.” Dana rubbed her eyes with both her knuckles and then let out a big yawn.

“I think you really need to get in bed, young lady.” Gemma went up the stairs and met her niece at the top. She released the security gate and stepped through, locking it once she was past the barrier.

Dana wore only a nightgown, her bare feet peeking out from below the hem. She rubbed her eyes again and wiped at her nose with her knuckles. “I can’t sleep. I see Mommy.”

Her heart might as well have stopped. Briefly she recalled that moment when she arrived at the hospital only to learn her sister and mom hadn’t made it, the grief so raw it tore up her insides so that each breath became an endurance of pain.

“Aw, honey, come here.” Gemma gathered the little girl into her arms and hugged her. Her sister had been a single mom who’d tried so hard to do right for her little girl. It all ended one stormy night on a mountain road when her sister’s car had gone over the edge, taking Fiona’s life and her mother’s. The police had declared it a tragic accident. Poor Dana had been trapped in the back seat for hours calling for her mother and grandmother.

After their deaths, Gemma had wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. How could she live in a world without the two women she loved so much and who’d had such an impact in her life?

Except that hadn’t been an option, not with Dana injured and desperately needing someone to help her overcome the physical and mental scars from the accident.

Gemma was trying, but she was a poor substitute.

She’d never thought much about how her mother and sister had juggled work and motherhood. She now knew it couldn’t have been easy for either of them. Being an investigative reporter meant odd hours and occasional field trips. Without Aunt Sylvie’s help, she wouldn’t have survived this long. Eventually, she would have to make some tough decisions because if it came down to her career or being there for Dana, it wasn’t even close. Dana, the spitting image of her sister, won hands down.

“Come on, Princess Dana. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Dana giggled as Gemma knew she would. “You’re silly, Aunt Gemma. This is my fairy gown. I got wings and a wand. Wanna see?”

“Not tonight, little Miss Fairy. You can show me at breakfast tomorrow morning.” Gemma steered the little girl towards her room, which was sandwiched between Gemma’s and her aunt’s. Dana’s room contained all the innocence of childhood with numerous dolls and stuffed animals scattered about against a backdrop of pink and white. Gemma’s mom had decorated the room for her first granddaughter for when she stayed over. Now it had become her permanent bedroom and Gemma’s childhood home had become hers upon the death of her mom and sister.

Gemma picked Dana up, experiencing a lump in her throat at the feel of the little girl’s arms around her neck. Dana buried her head against Gemma’s throat.

“You promised to come home early,” she said.

Guilt nibbled at the edges of Gemma’s mind. “I did promise. It was bad of me to break my promise. I really had to work late tonight.” She’d been using that excuse a lot lately, which only made her feel worse. She hadn’t hesitated to take responsibility for her niece, but how could she supply the stability Dana needed after such a traumatizing event when Gemma’s job pulled her away from home all the time?

Dana placed both hands on either side of Gemma’s cheeks, their noses nearly touching. “Aunt Sylvie says work is important. She says you work too hard.”

“Aunt Sylvie talks a lot.” The fact that her aunt’s comment was true, only added to the heap of guilt she was feeling. She tucked Dana back in bed and brushed a strand of red hair off her niece’s cheek. “You like Aunt Sylvie being here?” She didn’t know what she’d have done if her aunt hadn’t offered to move in. Dana needed a great deal of love and assurance along with stability. She’d lost so much in her short life. There was no way Gemma could have left her in day care all day while she went off to work.

Dana nodded sleepily. “She smells like cookies. Yummy.”

Gemma chuckled. She bent over and kissed her niece on the forehead. “Night, sweetie. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Good night, Aunt Gemma.” Dana pulled the sheet tighter and obediently closed her eyes.

Gemma waited until she was sure the little girl was asleep. She left the room and entered her own, which reflected the woman she was and not the child she’d been. She’d chosen green as her color scheme, a color she found soothing. Ironically enough, when she crawled in bed and closed her eyes, the only color she saw was deep blue, similar to the eyes of a very maddening and all-too-sexy detective.

The next morning, Gemma woke up aware that she’d spent a restless night with far too many dreams involving herself and Jack and not too many clothes. Who’d have thought one kiss could get to her like that?

She showered, changed and then went down to the kitchen where her aunt sat reading the newspaper.

Gemma saw right away that her niece wasn’t there. “Where’s Dana?”

“Upstairs getting ready.” Aunt Sylvie bent the pages, so she could look over at her. “You made page one again.”

“I did? Let me see.” Her aunt handed her the paper and she looked over the front page. It wasn’t the lead story, but it did have good positioning and, yup, there was her byline.

“I know you love your job and everything, but you need to be careful. Please tell me you’re being careful and paying attention to your surroundings when you come home so late, like you did last night.” Aunt Sylvie carefully folded the newspaper and laid it beside her plate. She didn’t quite look at Gemma, her hand, spotted with age, smoothing over the front page in a repetitive motion. “This killer you’re writing about is out there attacking women. And you know there are others like him. Unfortunately, we live in a dangerous world.”

She waited for her aunt to look up and when she did, Gemma’s heart clenched at the worry visible in her aunt’s gaze. “I promise I won’t take unnecessary chances. I won’t put Dana through that again. Or you.”

Aunt Sylvie reached over and squeezed Gemma’s hand. Then she got up and brought over the coffee carafe, pouring a cup for Gemma before topping up her own.

“Bless you,” Gemma said fervently as she inhaled the smell. Nothing beat that first cup in the morning. She also couldn’t resist her aunt’s homemade blueberry muffins. “These are to die for.” Between bites, she added, “Oh, by the way, my car broke down last night.” At the look of dismay and concern on her aunt’s face she rushed on. “It’s okay. I was with one of Carville’s finest, a detective, in fact. He gave me a ride home. But my car is stuck in a parking lot downtown and I’m without wheels. I’ll need to call a tow truck and arrange for a rental or something.”

“Why don’t you borrow my car?

Gemma lowered her coffee in surprise. “What about Dana’s preschool?”

“I’ll ask Jenny Thornton’s mom to drive her and drop her off back here later.” Aunt Sylvie got up and grabbed the portable phone. After a short conversation, she hung up. “It’s all settled. Jenny’s mom will drive both girls to preschool and pick them up after.”

“Are you sure? I don’t like leaving you without transportation.” She already felt like she was abusing her aunt’s generosity.

“It’s only for a day while you get things sorted. We’ll be fine. When Dana comes home, we can make chocolate chip cookies together.” Her aunt patted Gemma on the arm.

“All right, but promise me you’ll call if Jenny’s mom can’t do it for any reason.”

“I promise.” Her aunt stood up and began stacking dishes in the sink.

“Let me help with that!”

“I’m fine. Go check on Dana. You know how she gets sidetracked when she’s supposed to be getting ready.”

“Thanks, Aunt Sylvie. For everything.” She kissed her aunt on the cheek and went to get Dana ready.

By the time Gemma got to work, she was behind schedule. The newsroom buzzed with ringing phones and voices calling out to one another. Her own nerves hummed with energy. She’d made page one and, according to Tammy, the intern on staff, she’d scooped the other media with her report of a witness. Go Gemma!

Now she had to keep up the momentum with a solid follow-up story.

“Gemma, good work on that waitress’ murder. What else you got for me?” Her editor peered at her over the top of rimless bifocals, tufts of grey hair shooting up in various directions, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

“I’m working on it. I’ve got an in with the detective on the case.” Okay, it wasn’t much of an in, and he’d probably deny it for all he was worth, but she’d managed with less before.

“Get me something before deadline.” He walked away and started barking out orders to one of her hapless colleagues. Gemma pulled her chair closer and pulled her notes up on her computer. She often jotted down things on paper and then pulled it all together when she sat in front of the computer. Often re-reading descriptions of what witnesses said or going over her first impressions of places could trigger an idea for a story or point her in the direction of a lead to follow.

She supposed it was rather like being a detective.

By lunchtime, she’d wrapped up the finishing touches on a couple of stories that were due and had arranged for a tow truck. The garage might have a loaner she could borrow. She’d check it out later. She should really buy a new car, but that wasn’t in the cards, not as long as she had to worry about keeping her job and paying off Dana’s medical bills. Shoving the headache of another repair bill aside, she wrote out her To-Do list. At the top, she scribbled EAT in capital letters because her stomach was not so delicately reminding her that one muffin for breakfast did not last. After that, she penciled in her next priority: to track down a certain detective and get him to give her something she could use in her article.

She’d just slung her handbag over her shoulder when Tammy stopped by her desk. She dropped off several envelopes and then handed Gemma a package.

“What’s this?” The package was about the size of a hatbox and wrapped in brown paper with packing tape sealing the ends. It had her name typed on it, care of the Carville Gazette.

Tammy shrugged. “Don’t know. It was dropped off downstairs, so I brought it up. Why don’t you open it and see? Maybe there’s a card inside.”

Gemma dropped her purse on her chair. She managed to grab an end of one of the pieces of tape and pulled. Once she had the tape off, she pulled the edges of the paper away. Inside was a cardboard gift box. She glanced at Tammy, who was watching curiously.

Gemma lifted the gift box up, realizing from the weight that it contained something. She didn’t see a card or note attached and nothing appeared written on the colorful floral box.

She set the box on her desk. There didn’t seem to be any tape locking the lid in place. She lifted the top and stared at the object inside.

“What is it?” Tammy leaned in closer, trying to get a better view.

“It’s a bag.” Gemma knew she sounded puzzled, but she couldn’t figure out why someone would send her a bag.

She grasped the handle and pulled it out, noting that it wasn’t even a new bag. There were definite signs of wear and tear.

She really wasn’t getting a good feeling about this.

The bag was a dark brown, cheap vinyl material, with a zipper that closed the top and an outside pocket. It was a serviceable day bag with plenty of room to throw in various items and a long strap to cross over the body.

Gemma pulled the zipper open and peered down into the contents. She spied a wallet and lifted it out.

Okay. Not a good sign. Goosebumps were already sprouting up along her skin as if anticipating the worst. Really, who sent their wallet and bag in the mail? Not a normal person.

“Why would anyone send you an old bag?” Tammy’s voice held a mix of curiosity and concern.

Gemma shared the feelings. She carefully took out the wallet and opened it. “I’ll be sure to ask them that question when I find them.” Or not.

She was staring at the driver’s license of Kelly Lawson, murder victim number two.