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She stared at it briefly, then extended the phone toward the older detective. “That’s my neighbor,” she said, voice shaky. “Would you mind telling him what’s going on?”
The man frowned and crossed his arms. “Why does your neighbor need to know what’s going on?”
“He’s my, uh, boyfriend. Ish.” She rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand. “He takes care of me.”
The detective’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He takes care of you?” His tone was neutral, but suspicion lingered in the question. “You need someone to do that on a regular basis?”
Star sighed, the day's exhaustion settling over her like a lead blanket. “Maybe, probably … yeah, more often than you’d think,” she admitted. “Can I just answer your questions and go home?”
The detective shook his head. “Why don’t you come down to the station with us? It'll give you time to settle down. Maybe we can find something for you to wear from lost and found.” He gave her skirt a pointed glance. “We're gonna need that.”
Her eyes widened. “My skirt?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “The medical examiner will want the entire trash can, too. What we can gather from the seepage on your clothes might help.”
Her stomach flipped. “Seepage.” She gagged, forcing herself to swallow the rising bile. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
The detective’s expression didn’t waver. “I wish I were.”
She looked down at her phone again, the screen still glowing with Ethan's incoming call. “Would you ask him to bring me some clothes? Wherever you’re taking me?”
“Sure,” the younger detective said, taking the phone from her. He answered with a brisk, “Hello?”
The older detective motioned for Star to sit back in the car. “We’ll follow the patrol to the precinct once the crime scene team finishes.”
Star dropped her head against the seat’s headrest and closed her eyes. The foul stench of the alley clung to her hair and clothes. She exhaled slowly, willing herself to relax.
“Could this day get any worse?” she muttered to herself.
The older detective snorted. “Yeah, lady. It could get a lot worse.”
Her eyes popped open. “Excuse me?”How?
He shrugged, hands sliding into his coat pockets. “You could be the one in the trash can.”
Star's breath caught in her chest. “Wow.” Her voice trembled with disbelief. “You really know how to put things in perspective, huh?”
The cop’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a sardonic smile. “Lady, you’re out a pair of shoes and a skirt. That guy in the trash can? He’s never gonna take another breath.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. Fair point.”
Her eyes drifted toward the trash can, though she immediately regretted it. “Do you know who he is?”
The detective shook his head. “Not yet. The medical examiner will have to figure that out.”
Star’s pulse thudded in her ears. “Who does something like that?” she whispered. “Who could kill someone … dismember them like that?”
The detective sighed. “Been on the force for twenty-two years. You’d think I’d have an answer for that by now.” His eyes flicked to the trash can. “Could be a jilted lover. Revenge. Usually, it’s about money or jealousy. Lotta different ways to kill somebody … not so many reasons.”
Star shivered. “Could it be the Mafia?”
The detective’s brows lifted. “The syndicate?” He shook his head. “Nah. If it were them, we wouldn’t have found the body.”
Star forced a weak smile. “Yeah, I'm starting to understand that.”
The detective's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “It’s just been one hell of a week.”