Читать книгу Copycat - Erica Spindler, Erica Spindler - Страница 11
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ОглавлениеRockford, Illinois Tuesday, March 7, 2006 8:10 a.m.
The shrill scream of the phone awakened Kitt from a deep, pharmaceutically induced sleep. She fumbled for the phone, nearly dropping it twice before she got it to her ear. “H’lo.”
“Kitt. It’s Brian. Get your ass up.”
She cracked open her eyes. The sunlight streaming through the blinds stung. She shifted her gaze to the clock, saw the time and dragged herself to a sitting position.
She must have killed the alarm.
She glanced at Joe’s side of the bed, wondering why he hadn’t awakened her, then caught herself. Even after three years, she expected him to be there.
No husband. No child. All alone now.
Kitt coughed and sat up, working to shake out the cobwebs. “Calling so early, Lieutenant Spillare? Must be something pretty damn earth-shattering.”
“The bastard’s back. Shattering enough?”
She knew instinctively “the bastard” he referred to—the Sleeping Angel Killer. The case she never solved, though her obsession with it nearly destroyed both her life and career.
“How—”
“A dead little girl. I’m at the scene now.”
Her worst nightmare.
After a five-year hiatus, the SAK had killed again.
“Who’s working it?”
“Riggio and White.”
“Where?”
He gave a west Rockford address, a blue-collar neighborhood that had seen better days.
“Kitt?”
She was already out of the bed, scrambling for clothes. “Yeah?”
“Tread carefully. Riggio’s—”
“A little intense.”
“Territorial.”
“Noted, my friend. And … thanks.”
