Читать книгу Dead Don't Lie - Lynell Nicolello - Страница 16

CHAPTER NINE

THE NEXT MORNING Ryan blew into the bull pen like a volcano ready to explode. His jacket flapped around his shoulder harness as he stormed toward her. Evelyn’s eyebrows shot up. She could count on one hand how many times she’d seen him this spun up. Whatever had set him off must’ve been good...or really bad. From her seat, she held up the cup of coffee she’d poured for him and waited.

He grabbed the mug and shoved the Seattle Times under her nose. “Have you seen this horseshit?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

He marched around her desk and dropped into his chair. Thumping down his mug, caramel liquid splashing over the sides, he ripped open the paper and started reading.

“‘Dear Editor—you’d be wise to advise the ever-glorious Seattle police force that I will kill one of your precious Seattle families every week until she figures it out. Think fast, sweetheart.’” Ryan slammed down the paper. His eyes grew dark. “Why would they print this shit? And who the hell is she?”

“Evelyn is.” Marcus walked up, coffee and doughnut in hand, and sat on the corner of her desk. What was with him sitting on people’s desks? Didn’t his mother teach him manners? But she couldn’t ignore how exceptionally sexy he looked in his tailored tan pants, crisp white shirt, leather shoulder harness and red tie. And those curls. Good god, those curls. She shook her head at the rogue thought.

Get it together.

“What?” Evelyn pushed back her chair, creating distance between her and the handsome man invading her personal space. She hadn’t meant to be sharp, but the lack of sleep and the heavy weight of this case chipped away at her normally poised, self-controlled demeanor. Its eerie similarity—however vague it might be—to her own family’s murder unsettled her. Add the fact that the fifteenth anniversary of her family’s death was just a few weeks away, and it was no wonder that she was a bit impatient with Marcus.

But now she was noticing how sexy he looked? Good grief.

She glanced up at him. He smiled and her heart took off.

“You can’t possibly know that he’s referring to me.”

His shoulders raised in a slight shrug. “True. I don’t. But I’d bet my pension on it.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Ryan said. “Talk, Mr. Special Agent Man.”

She shifted in her chair, lips curled in a tiny smile. She enjoyed the play between the two men, and Ryan was in rare form today.

Marcus swallowed a chunk of blueberry doughnut before answering. “It’s Marcus. No need for formality. We’re a team now, right?”

Now that she hadn’t expected from the Fed. Trying to take over—yes. Putting them all on equal ground—no. She reached for her coffee.

Ryan nodded. “Fair enough. Marcus it is. Start talking.”

“It’s deductive reasoning, really. Anyone with half a brain and access to a computer can do a search and find the names of the SPD detectives.”

Evelyn snapped her fingers. She smiled at Marcus, picking up on his train of thought, and cut in. “Then all they’d have to do is call in an anonymous tip and ask to speak to the lead detective.”

“Exactly,” Marcus agreed. “The poor shmuck on the other end of the line—no offense—”

“None taken.” Ryan shrugged, the fire in his eyes tapering.

“—gives Evelyn’s name out, and bam. The bastard knows who the lead detective is.”

“Holy shit.” Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. “It can’t be that easy.”

Marcus smirked. “It is. I called in to check my theory myself.”

A laugh erupted from Evelyn before she could swallow it. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” Marcus winked and got up from the edge of her desk. He walked to the old desk they’d dug up for him and sat.

“But why?” He looked at Evelyn pointedly. “Why go through all that trouble to single you out?”

Evelyn shuddered. The thought of this psychopath zeroing in on her made her blood run cold. “I have no idea.”

* * *

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Evelyn left the station, having volunteered to do the Starbucks run. The moment she disappeared down the stairs, Ryan turned to Marcus. “Why are you really here?”

He looked at Ryan, deliberating how to respond. Someone didn’t ask that type of question unless they already knew the answer. It annoyed Marcus, but he got it. He’d done the same thing many times over. So why was Ryan asking? Marcus watched him closely. Unless Ryan was trying to vet him to see how up-front and honest he’d be—which again, Marcus understood perfectly.