Page 24 of Killer Knows Best (Fallon Baxter FBI Mystery #4)

24

SPECIAL AGENT FALLON BAXTER

K aren Holt’s high heels hardly touch the ground before I spot her making a run for it. Panic flares in her eyes, and it makes my blood pressure spike.

The mission was simple: don’t spook her too much. We still need to provide enough solid evidence to lock her up. But here we are. She’s spooked and I’m ticked.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I bark, lunging for her. I all but tackle the woman to the ground, before grabbing the back of her skimpy dress and dragging her outside by the arm. She flails like a cat in a bathtub, but I’ve got her in a vise grip. She’s not going anywhere.

Jack follows close behind with his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

Cars peel away from the driveway as the area quickly evolves into the world’s ritziest getaway scene. All that remains is the sharp screech of tires and the faint trail of exhaust curling into the icy night air.

Before long, it’s just Jack, Karen, and I alone in the shadow of a glorious stone fountain that rises at least fifteen feet into the sky. The moon reflects off the water, casting an otherworldly glow over our faces. It’s easy to see that the fountain in question is the centerpiece of the sprawling front lawn. The massive marble structure has a statue of a woman standing at the top with her arms stretched wide, the opposite of Jesus the Redeemer—more like Karen the Madame.

Although it seems too perfect to be any such thing, too smooth, like everything in Crimson Heights. The water dances in arcs around her, splashing down with a gentle roar and creates a soothing backdrop to the tension buzzing in the air.

“Karen—” I start as Jack and I all but cage the woman between us. She could run, but she wouldn’t get far.

“ Kiki ,” she kisses my way.

“Fine,” Jack says, stepping in and towering over the woman, his face set in that stoic yet angry expression he’s mastered. “We’ve got a few questions for you, Kiki .”

Her breathing grows shallow. Her chest heaves under her tight dress, but her eyes dart between us, calculating how far she’d have to run to get away from us, and how fast. She’s not accounting for the bullets, of course. People rarely do.

Just as Jack opens his mouth again, we hear footsteps trotting in this direction. Nikki shows up laughing while dressed in a black sparkling frock as if she’s walking into a cocktail party instead of a takedown.

“You knew ,” I say, narrowing my eyes on the woman designated to have my back. There’s no question in my voice. Nikki knew this circus was waiting for us. And now I know exactly why she opted to show up late. She knew she’d be right on time for the important part. And, if we’re honest, she may have gotten too carried away with the unimportant part that took place inside.

Nikki isn’t about teasing or being teased. She’s a touchdown kind of a girl, a running all the bases on opening night kind of a girl, and a girl who always finishes what she starts. Sort of like me, but just on that last point.

“You knew they were swingers,” Jack says with a laugh buried in his throat. I’m glad someone is amused.

“What?” She winks my way as she shoves her hands into her pockets. “You think I’d miss the fun? Never.”

Jack shoots her a look, a silent demand to get serious, but Nikki just shrugs and looks over at Karen, Kiki , who’s shaking off the initial shock. She smooths out her dress and rolls her eyes.

“Can we get this over with? What’s this about?” Karen’s voice wavers, and for a second, a very real fear flickers in her gaze. She knows exactly what she’s done and for how long she can be prosecuted for it.

“We want to know if you knew Delaney Riggs or Gwen Alderson,” Jack says, leaning in just enough to make it clear we’re not here for a casual chat or a round two of whatever it is she was offering him. All I know is that it was about to commence with a lap dance and she was going to enjoy the heck out of it.

“Delaney and Gwen? Oh, that.” She lets out a sigh of relief as if she thought we’d ask about something far worse. She’s na?ve if she thinks we’re stopping there, but I’ll let her believe it. A content suspect beats one that squirms and thereby worms their way out of the truth.

“We’re speaking to everyone who may have had contact with them,” I say, watching her carefully. “The guy who rented the hotel room they were killed in said he spoke to you.”

Karen’s eyes dart to the side, and her entire body shifts every which way. I can tell she’s trying to think on her feet. “They were just looking for a date,” she says, casually tossing her hair back. She’s quick, I’ll give her that. And ballsy. “And I have a keen eye for that kind of thing. I know who pairs well with whom.” She pauses long enough to bat her lashes at Jack. “It’s sort of my gift. I also know who’s going to have a good time with whom.” Her good grammar might go undetected, but the flirtation is as subtle as a sledgehammer.

Jack tenses next to me, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“So, you’re a matchmaker,” I say dryly. “Is that your line of work?”

“Sort of. I mostly sell journals, but the matchmaking—that’s just something I’m naturally good at. I didn’t hurt those girls. I swear, they were just there for fun. I blame Rush. He’s the fun one. He’s the one with the dark side, too—or at least his boys are entrenched in it.”

Rush Simmons, music manager extraordinaire, looks about as fun as a colonoscopy and all the aftereffects that come along with the prep work. I’m guessing the boys in the band have a little more life to them.

Jack crosses his arms and sighs. “What dark side are we talking about?”

Karen shrugs. “You know, the usual. They’ve always had a taste for the dangerous stuff. And Gwen, well, she was up for anything. But Delaney? That girl was your classic nerd. Practically had her nose in a library book the entire time I met her.” She laughs, a little too loud, her eyes skittering away with more than a hint of guilt. “I went to the library once to get a feel for her, and one of the witches she worked with practically chewed my head off for getting anywhere near her.”

“Oh?” I lean in. “What exactly did the witch say?”

Karen’s brow furrows as she struggles to recall. “Something about how people like me are ruining lives—playing with the devil’s fire.” She scoffs. “Dramatic, right? Whatever. They didn’t like me poking around.”

Jack exchanges a look with me. Playing with the devil’s fire. Now that’s a line we’ll remember.

And whoever said it knew more than they were letting on .

“All right, we’re wrapping this up,” Nikki says, stepping forward and flashing her badge. “Let me see your phone, Kiki. I’ll give you our number.”

Kiki hesitates, but she hands it over without much of a fight. Maybe because she called her Kiki instead of Karen or maybe because Nikki is so inherently likable.

Nikki taps a few buttons and offers a smile.

“Now you have our info,” Nikki says as she hands it back. “You call us if anything else comes to mind.”

We take off and I catch a glimpse of Karen bolting back into the house as if she were running for cover.

A breathy laugh escapes from Nikki. “We’ll know all there is to know about Kiki and her little empire soon enough. I just mirrored her phone.”

The corner of my mouth lifts as we walk away.

This just got interesting.