Page 31 of Killer Knows Best (Fallon Baxter FBI Mystery #4)

31

SPECIAL AGENT FALLON BAXTER

T he next day the wind rips through, violent and terrifying, like an angry ex breaking a restraining order.

Jack, Nikki, and I send a flurry of texts throughout the afternoon as we gather intel while in the comfort of our own homes. Buddy and I are snuggled under a quilt when I get a text from Hale that all but threatens our jobs if we don’t materialize before him within seconds.

Within twenty minutes, Jack and I step into the situation room with Buddy trotting beside us, his tail swishing contentedly against my leg. Jack and I jumped into his truck and rode in together. And I’ll admit, Jack looks no worse for wear considering how colorful the previous evening was. He’s back to his usual calm demeanor, hiding whatever thoughts are churning well under the surface.

The late afternoon light filters through the narrow windows and casts shadows across the sleek white conference table.

SAC Hale stands at the head, already waiting for us with his arms crossed, looking more than a little perturbed .

Jack gives him a quick nod as we file in with Nikki right behind us, twirling a pen like it’s a baton.

Hale doesn’t waste time. “We’ve got a rash of bad news, most of which, if not all, is connected to the case.” He clicks the remote, and an image pops onto the screen.

It’s a body in an alley, and by the looks of it, it’s both filthy and crumpled. It’s a young woman with her clothes torn open, who looks as if she’s staring at the sky. She could theoretically be alive, but the infinity symbol carved into her abdomen says otherwise.

“Another body was found downtown. ID says her name is Jeffra Rizzoli, once a teenage runaway who’s spent years using and abusing herself on the streets. Looks like it finally caught up with her.”

“Finally?” Jack murmurs under his breath. “The girl has had a rough ride long before the killer showed up.”

Hale zooms into the infinity symbol outlined in crimson, the sharp lines of the carving stark against the girl’s pale skin. My stomach tightens as I stare at it and a chill crawls up my spine.

Buddy sniffs my way before hopping into the seat next to me, and I give him a grateful pat.

“A shopkeeper found her this morning. As if that wasn’t enough excitement…” Hale continues. “A missing person’s report was filed this morning as well for another woman by the name of Marsha Warren—a local socialite who was headed to dinner last night and hasn’t been heard from since.”

“Just last night?” Nikki scoffs at the thought. “Give it a minute. She’s still sleeping off her hangover.”

Hale doesn’t blink. “Her assistant says it’s uncharacteristic. Apparently, they had some deal where Marsha would text once she got home from her events. If she didn’t, they were to contact the police.”

Jack and I exchange a look .

“Do you think she was a hooker?” I ask, getting right down to brass street-walking tacks. I don’t see why not. We’re all thinking it.

Nikki lets out a snort. “When a person of stature is involved in the profession, they prefer to be called escorts.”

“High-end escorts,” Jack chimes in without missing a beat and Nikki howls out a laugh because of it.

“Leave it to Stone to know the lingo.” She winks his way. “No dig at you,” she adds, glancing at me. “But he had a reputation with all sorts of ladies before you came into the picture.”

I knew that.

“Picture?” Hale’s voice takes on a hard edge, and he looks visibly ticked. “What picture? Are the two of you canoodling? Don’t tell me I have to separate you.”

Jack tilts his chin up defiantly. “Try it, and we might have an accidental misfire right here in the office.”

“Duly noted,” Hale says sternly, but his expression is laced with exasperation. “The two of you had better behave when you’re on the clock.”

“And we’re always on the clock,” Nikki quips, twirling her pen again. “So get creative, would you?”

I tick my head to the side. “You know what they say—romance and homicide go hand in hand.”

“Nobody says that,” Hale growls, looking rather unamused.

“She said it.” Jack shrugs his way and Hale finally cracks a smile, albeit one that looks mildly psychotic.

“All right, enough small talk,” Hale barks. “And yes, Stone, that was a dig at your man parts.”

“Hey.” Jack sits up, sounding more than a little offended. “She’s never seen my man parts,” he’s quick to spread the word. “And small isn’t something that comes to mind when thinking of any part attached to myself.”

“Maybe you need glasses,” Hale says without missing a beat and my mouth falls open in lieu of a laugh. A laugh would be exceptionally cruel.

Nikki nods to Hale with a grin. “I finally broke into Sherry Kent’s phone.”

This gets my attention.

“Did you?” I ask. And I’m more than relieved to change the subject.

I’m not a size matters girl. Am I?

“Yup.” Nikki flips open her laptop. “There were messages to Kiki along with another person she never addressed by name but had them listed as ‘sluts-r-us’. Charming, right? But it definitely looks as if our friend Kiki was shoveling business in Sherry’s direction.”

Jack gives both Nikki and me a look that says, now we’re getting somewhere .

Nikki clicks away at her keyboard as she continues. “I’m going to compile everything for us into a single dossier of the messages I’ve collected from Sherry Kent, Karen Holt, Delaney Riggs, and Gwen Alderson. That should be enough to put Karen away for human trafficking and racketeering.”

“Racketeering?” I raise a brow. “That’s a bold move. Do you suspect the mob?” I’m only half-teasing.

“Knight always suspects organized crime.” Hale nods her way. “I’m starting to think that’s your love language.”

She points right at him. “I knew you were a romantic.”

“I’ve got three divorces under my belt that say I’m not,” he counters.

“Karen Holt might just have the power to change your mind—or at least she might have a stable full of girls ready and willing for the right price. Trust me”—Nikki says emphatically—“she’s in deep. And we’ve got her.”

Hale nods, satisfied. “Good. Keep me updated. I want that dossier on my desk by tomorrow. ”

“Screenshots, please,” I say and she gives a thumbs-up without diverting from her task at hand.

“Okay.” Hale clasps his hands. “Knight will dig deep. Stone, Baxter, I hear you’ve got a date at the library tonight.”

Jack’s chest expands. “A date with death.”

Nikki looks up.

“Phillis Hazelwood, the author of Into the Ether with Love , is giving a talk,” I say. “She and her friend Brenda Billings worked closely with Delaney Riggs. You should come.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “But I’d have to squeeze it in with my actual date. I’ve got a bad boy on the line and I can’t risk losing him. He’s young, hot, and he has access to a key player in the case. A real bad boy.”

Jack and I let out a spontaneous groan at the thought.

“In the meantime”—Nikki makes a face at Jack then me—“I’ll be going over the security footage that law enforcement obtained from the businesses around the vicinity of that restaurant Marsha Warren was headed to last night but never arrived at. Her car was found a few blocks down. Parking is tight and apparently lethal.”

“She could very well be alive and we’re treating it that way,” Hale says sternly. He goes to turn then pauses as he looks at Jack and me. “Try not to groan like that again in my presence. And Knight, steer clear of bad boys, would you?”

“It’s the lead singer of Social Disorder,” she’s quick to spill the disorderly beans. “I’ve been hanging out at the venue where they play, hoping to get ahold of Rush Simmons’ phone.” She shrugs my way as if that made it any better. “Anyway, the lead singer caught my eye and I liked what I saw. Tonight at ten. Feel free to join me.”

“Bring your weapons,” Hale mutters. “Now get lost.”

Jack and I rise, but before we leave, I shoot a glance at Nikki. “Keep us in the loop as soon as you hear anything. ”

“Already on it,” Nikki says with a wink.

Jack and I head out the door and the weight of the day settles over me as we jump into his truck. I glance at Jack as we pull out of the lot and the early evening sun dips behind the mountains, casting menacing shadows over our world.

“Another day, another body,” I say as Buddy pokes his head between us. “And a potential kidnapping,” I add. “We’re in the deep end.”

Buddy whimpers at the thought and Jack nods.

“We’ve always been in the deep end.” Jack sighs. “The killer is ratcheting it up. They want something. They want notoriety.”

“Or they want to get caught,” I say. “After all, it’s just a game of cat and mouse.”

Buddy belts out a bark.

“Don’t forget dog ,” Jack says. “And let’s not forget the FBI. We might be down, but we are far from out.”